


Rough Waters & Star Clusters

by 0KKULTiC



Series: The King & The Constellation [2]
Category: Holland (Korea Musician), Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Ambiguously 1600s, Angst, Boats and Ships, Characters Tagged As They Appear, Drama, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Pirate!Ong, Politics, Prisoner!Daniel, Renaissance Era, Royalty, Sex, Slow Burn, Violence, War, Worldbuilding, period drama, pirate ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-07-01 13:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 171,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Swept away by the turbulent waters of lies and plots, Ong Seongwoo must reacclimate to life as he knows it. The hope was that things would fall into place, but nothing is ever easy. He thinks that everything he needs is his. Instead, he finds himself in more peril than ever. His only choice is to fight:To fight for what he believes in. To fight for love.No mere battle can win over what Seongwoo's heart truly desires. Knowing so, he does what he must: he wages war.





	1. Prologue: You Either Die A Hero

“Get out of here, get out of here!” The woman screamed, shoving her son into the governess’s arms.

 

“ _Bang! Bang_ !” “ _Craack_!!”

 

“Get out of here, _now_!” She shouted again; her voice sounded hoarse from strain, scratched by the smoke filtering in beneath the crack of the door. Tears flowed from her eyes in thick torrents.

 

The young boy clamored back to his mother, wetness blurring his vision. Everything had happened so fast. He felt confused; so, so confused. Mama and Papa had been acting strange all morning. They’d been whispering and looking at their son with strange expressions. The child had thought that the disappearance of all the people was what had bothered them. There had used to be so many other children to play with, and lots of adults walking around the halls. Yet, in the recent weeks, they felt more desolate by the day. Even the servants’ numbers had been dwindling. Once lively dinners had been reduced to quiet, somber affairs. Laughter itself had felt stifled, as if the mere expression of joy was improper, a pariah.

 

The child had overheard his mother whispering to a maid about packing some valuable possessions. That was when he’d realized: they were leaving, too. He didn’t want to leave; he liked the castle very much. He could see the ocean from the high towers and even throw out smuggled table scraps to the gulls in the sky. Papa, during his brief times home, would always take him out sailing. He’d drill him, teaching him things he taught his seamen and officers. Mama had always complained that they’d be out there for days on end if they were allowed, never returning to her.

 

“Milady, are you sure?” The governess said, huddling the boy close, “I am sure we can make room for-”

 

“ _Craaaack_!”

 

The heavy wood of the lady’s quarter doors splintered, spitting thin spears of wood across the hickory floor. Little time was left before the structure would give way to the pounding battering ram.  Smoke poured in through the newly formed cracks in the wood. It seeped in malignantly, filling the room quickly with the smell of fire and brimstone.

 

Papa had been gone all day; as a matter of fact, the boy hadn’t seen his papa for about two or three days. He’d been incredibly busy, apparently. Mama, however, had orbited the child all morning and into the afternoon. She’d disappeared for awhile - doing court business, he’d supposed - and returned in a neurotic state. She had rushed her boy to her quarters which had been filled with bustling maids.

 

The child had never seen her so manic in his life. It terrified him. She’d been spouting demands clippedly at the maids all evening, hastily explaining that her and the boy were to go on a trip. He’d been whisked away on sudden trips before, but never on such short notice. Regardless, he knew he had little say in the matter and stood aside. Mama chatted idly as if trying to distract herself. She’d told her boy that she loved him probably a dozen times and that she loved his father, too.

 

Then came the noise.

 

The sun had started to set when the child had started to hear a muffled sound. Initially, it had been as if someone had dampened it with a pillow, distant. Quickly, it had grown closer. Screams had broken out, shattering the evening calm. Not one. Not dozens. Close to one hundred. The screams of men hellbent on what, exactly? The child still wasn’t sure precisely their reason, but he was old enough to understand their basic motives. They’d come seeking bloodshed, the throne of a King. It was long past the point of any sort of negotiation. The boy wondered if negotiation had ever been an option. Probably not.

 

Their weaponry was sophisticated, far more than the castle had been equipped to handle. With powder weaponry and battering rams, they brutally tore across the castle’s guard. Rapidly, bodies clad in armor infested the place like massive, metal vermin, occupying every nook and cranny, slipping between the cracks. The castle guard had been fighting valiantly for hours; some had even managed to send messages requesting reinforcements from nearby nobles. Hence, it had taken the invaders awhile to get to the northwest corner of the top floor. The little corner of court the boy and his family called their own.

 

Flares of bright orange and red lapped at the door frame, slipping beneath the crack at the bottom. Muffled yells of obscenities and curses sounded out like the booms of cannonballs. Tangled between them were the screams of those unfortunate enough to be caught fleeing in the halls. Blood-curdling wails came to a quick halt. Shrieks were punctuated with the sound of metallic slicing, followed by the dull thud of something limp falling to the ground.

 

“One!” The soldiers outside the door yelled in unison, no doubt hoisting their battering ram up again for one final blow.

 

“Please, please, my baby- you have to go now!”

 

“Mama!” The boy tore himself from the governess’s grasp, running to his mother. He stumbled and fell, wincing in pain as his kneecaps crashed onto the floor. Clenching his teeth, he buried his face in his mother’s skirts. Wet warmth started to trickle down his face. “Mama… What’s happening? Why are these men doing this? Why now?”

 

“Two!” The soldier in charge shouts from beyond the door.

 

The mother sniffled loudly, placing a hand gently on his head, “I- I wish I could give you an answer, my love, but I cannot. Not in the time we have left together.” She bent over, wrapping her arms around the boy tightly, “I love you so, so much. I will love you forever, do you understand me?”

 

“Why are you talking like that? You’re going to come with me. We’ll find Papa and- and-”

 

“No- no, my boy. You have to go, now.”

 

“But Ma-”

 

“Now. I- I am staying, because I must find, Papa, you understand?”

 

“But-”

 

“He and I will reunite and-” She choked on a sob, and her entire body crumbled. The multitudinous layers of her skirts bunched and bulged around her body as she collapsed onto her knees. “We will meet you on the boat, okay?” Her voice sounded incredibly thick; the boy could scarcely understand her. The child’s body quaked, and he dug his face further into the woman’s skirts. He clung to the fabric with white-knuckled grip.

  


“Three!” “ _Baang_ !” “ _Craaacckk_!!”

 

The massive, heavy slab of carved wood flew into the room, skidding across the tile. In its wake, a small squadron of soldiers swarmed the bedchambers. The governess screamed; the mother hugged her son tighter than she ever had in her life. In an attempt to make sense of the situation, the boy lifted his head from his Mama’s skirt. All he could make out was the smeared visages of faces; they were a jumble of legs and yelling and armor for all he was concerned. They almost looked like monsters through his tear-blurred vision.

 

“Where’s the Commander?!” One of the soldiers barked.

 

“Papa?” The boy muttered thoughtlessly. He, too, wondered where the commander - his Papa - had been.

 

“Hm?” The soldier’s attention immediately turned to the boy. “What’d you say?”

 

The child went mute. His eyes widened, and fear froze him in place. His mother hugged him protectively.

 

“He’s crying because you’ve upset him,” The woman said shakily.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” The soldier growled. He grabbed the mother’s shoulder and tossed her to the floor. Taken by surprise, she hit the floor with a loud thump. Even though the pain had caused her to wince, she still ventured a response.

 

“He’s a child.”

 

“Shut up!” The man bellowed. His roar nearly shook the room; its sound echoed loudly in the room, leaving the occupants’ ears ringing. “You,” He approached the child slowly, leering at him with malice. “Now, if I recall correctly, you called him ‘Papa’.”

 

The boy tried to back away, but he stumbled, falling backwards. Terror staked his heart, driving thorny pain into his bloodstream and throughout his entire body. He grasped desperately at the air passing through his lungs, yet no breath felt adequate; fear slowly began drowning him, disabling him from doing the most essential of life’s motions.

 

“Are you the Commander’s boy, then?”

 

No response came. Only wide eyes filled to the brim with tears answered the man.

 

The man raised his voice,“I said: _are you the Commander’s boy_?!”

 

A sudden force lifted the boy’s body into the air. The soldier in charge had abruptly scooped him up by the collar of his shirt, bringing them face to face.

 

“No, please! Don’t hurt him!” The governess cried, reaching a hand out. She was ignored.

 

“Why don’t you tell me where your pa is, huh?” Soldiers behind the snarling man started to take torches to the perimeter of the room. Tapestries ignited with ease. The blaze illuminated the room in hot, orange light. In the wake of the firelight, long, inky shadows cast across the floor and walls. The inky humanesque likenesses made the entire room appear as if it’d been overrun by lucid nightmares.

 

“Hey! You daft or something? I’ll ask you again one more time- real slow, so you understand,” The soldier glared furiously at the boy, “Where. Is. Your. Father?”

 

The boy’s eyes darted from his mother to the man’s face; back to his mother, and the man. His entire body shook, needled by panic. Even though the mere attempt to breathe caused him to choke, the boy felt inclined to respond. He thought about his father, the mighty Commander, the one these men so desperately sought out. The boy loved his Papa very much, he’d learned a lot from the man. Papa had always been so infallible, so decisive and imposing. He never tolerated bad behavior or acerbity. The child wondered: what would Papa do?

 

Swallowing hard, the boy delivered his answer; clear and confident, he replied, “Go to hell.”

 

The soldier’s eyes shot wide open, and his jaw dropped. He threw the boy to the ground and followed the brutality up with a swift kick.

 

“ _Aaaah_!” The boy cried. He hugged his torso, writhing in pain, and a fresh set of tears fell down his face. A trail of hot, metallic red gushed from his nose, hitting his tongue.

 

“No!” His Mama jumped to her feet. “You stay away from him! Don’t you dare lay another finger on him!”

 

“Oh?” The man turns around and begins striding toward the mother. He looms ominously over her beaten down form and crosses his arms. “And how exactly do you plan on stopping me?”

 

The boy moved to jump to his mother. He wanted nothing more than to shield her with his own body, to protect her. Crippling pain raked through his body, and his motion was little more than a wince. Tears fell down his cheeks anew, searing streams of hot liquid mixing with grime and blood.

 

“I can- I can take you to him,” Mama said through pained huffs. The child’s eyes widened, and, once again, he tried to go to the woman. He coughed and sputtered futilely as the soldier pursued his mother.

 

“The Commander?”

 

“Yes, the commander,” She answered with a thick voice. “But- Only if you spare the child and the servant. Shedding their blood yields no benefit to your cause.”

 

“See, miss,” The soldier strode toward the woman slowly. His pace appeared almost lackadaisical as if he had been taking a leisurely stroll through the castle. The fact that the man so clearly enjoyed his wrongdoings both sickened and horrified the child. “That is a point on which we disagree. To me, personally, the culling of the innocent - the young, the woman - it all means something.” He enjoyed his lecturing immensely as he closed in on the wounded mother, “Perhaps these types pose no immediate, physical threat, but it is crucial that they are punished alongside their fighting comrades. You’re a mother, are you not? Then you of all persons ought to know: it is critical to send the proper message. It matters not who incited conflict, all must be disciplined the same. Sending a message!” The man clapped thunderously; the sound causes the child to flinch, and the governess scuttled across the floor to take hold of him. “That,” The soldier continued, “Is the true intention of our actions. Killing is a… Necessary sacrifice to achieve a greater good. Had your lot behaved and yielded when you could, all of this bloodshed could have been prevented.”

 

“You’re _sick_ ,” The mother spewed at the hefty figure looming above her. The soldier cared not about her insults. He bent over, snatching the woman up by the arm and yanking her onto her feet. The boy’s mother recoiled in fear, but the soldier did nothing with immediacy. He inspected her up and down, evaluating the fair but disheveled woman.

 

“Take me to the commander,” He barked at her, “I feel gracious this evening. I will spare the child. However, if you see fit to commit some sort of trickery, I will find him.” The man’s voice lowered to a malicious snarl, “I will drag you to him by your hair and have him held down while I take you as my own. Do you understand?”

 

Eyes wide with trepidation, the mother nods wordlessly. There is no hesitation in the soldier’s actions, and he shoves the woman out the door. Flames dangerously chased after her, but whether by intention or miracle, her clothes managed not to ignite. The boy’s body felt heavy, heavier than it had ever felt in his life. Even moving a single limb felt impossibly laborious. Every breath came at a price, followed by intense pain.

 

“M-Mama!” The boy choked out, reaching a hand out in her direction. Through the flames, he scarcely was able to see the woman. She turned to look over her shoulder, her face blurred by tears and dancing flame.

 

“I love you so much!” She yelled.

 

Those were the last words the boy heard from her before she disappeared behind the wall of flames.

 

Little time was given for any sort of contemplation or mourning. The squadron that had broken in followed at their leader’s heels, apparently uncaring of the governess’s and child’s fates. The caretaker scooped the child up into her arms. Events smeared in the following minutes.

  
“Come on,” The governess whispered, leading him through a hidden door. Though every joint and bone in his body protested, the boy did his best to move. His caretaker grabbed him by the arm, pushing him along rushedly.

 

The corridor was dark and cool, a jarring contrast from the room that had gone up in flames. Everything felt hurried, rushed, and uncertain. The boy had no choice but to let the governess lead him. He occasionally lashed out, attempting to free himself from her grasp and find his mother. Unfortunately, he had not the strength to do so.

 

“Hush, boy. We must be quick. It’ll be alright. It’ll all be alright,” The woman ushering him through the secret tunnel whispered to him. “It’ll be alright. We shall get out soon.” Little reassurances left her lips with quickness; yet, they bore little conviction.

 

Only agony could truly register in the child’s mind and body. Both physical ail and emotional devastation toiled on his will to go on. He hardly could process his own body’s movements despite its aching. The boy felt more like a puppet being strung along by the governess than a human. His mother’s face filled his thoughts to the brim; it was all he could see.

 

“Come, come, come, come,” The governess whispered to him. They descended a steep, winding set of stone steps. A cool breeze began blowing through the corridor, and the child wondered just where they had ended up.

 

“ _Click_ .” “ _Screeeeeee-_ ”

 

The sound of an old, creaky door opening roused the boy’s attention. A familiar, steady rhythm filled his ears. He blinked away the tears in his eyes to see where they’d arrived. Even in the dim of dusk, he recognized the sea immediately. The soft crashing of waves echoed into the corridor, and the faint smell of salt and sand began to fill his nose. Dim moonlight danced across the surface of the rippling water. Following the governess out the door, he found himself on a small, shanty dock.

 

“Come along, we’ve no time to dally,” The governess insisted, gently prodding him down the rickety structure. A tiny wooden boat with a single oar bobbed up and down in the water; their escape. A thrash of pain seized the boy as he clumsily stepped down into the boat. He shuddered, hugging his knees close and crumbling into the bottom of the worn dinghy.

 

Suddenly, another wave of sobs overtook the boy. His chest heaved with excruciating pain as another round of swollen tears fell down his face. He felt as if he’d swallowed a bramble bush. Everything hurt, inside and out. Prickling anguish filled his throat, making the mere act of breathing difficult. Throbbing soreness radiated from the point of impact of the soldier’s boot.

 

The governess busied herself with untying the little boat. When the child heard the telltale sound of paddling, he realized that they were leaving.

 

They were leaving, but his mother was not.

 

He looked up at the castle above them. Whether due to shock or genuine realization, a quiet fell over the boy. His face went limp, his jaw dropping open. Crying subsided, and even emotion numbed. All he could do was watch blankly.

 

The island - and the grand castle that topped its highest point - began receding in the distance. It had always appeared so magnificent up close, so infallible. Yet there it stood: ablaze, overrun with the tiny forms of men in armor. The place that the child called home became further and further away.

 

“Where are we going?” His lips moved without consent of his mind.

 

“Away,” The governess answered. She looked ahead of them in the distance, and the child’s gaze followed. Initially, he saw nothing. Only black; an impossibly black sky coupled with the deep depths of the ocean below. A few craggy rock formations jutted out from the sea, blocking the moon.

 

The child’s eyes widened. He realized that, between the massive crags, another shape appeared. Barely discernible in the low light, he made out clean, inorganic lines sticking straight up and curving down toward the water.

 

“A ship?” The child asked.

 

“Yes. You needn’t worry. We’ll be safe aboard the Onyx Triumph. No hostile vessel can top its speeds. We will be safe, so, please, you needn’t worry. Alright?”

 

The child merely watched on in awe. His old home shrunk behind them and the dark mass of wood and sails in front of them grew larger in size.

 

“Alright?” The governess asked concernedly. She sighed, biting her lip nervously. Leaning forward, she placed her hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, she repeated herself, “Alright, Seongwoo?”

  
He didn’t stir.

 

“Seongwoo?” The voice asked again. “Seongwoo? Seongwoo…”


	2. Or Become The Villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER 1 WARNING(s): Mild descriptions of sexual activities & violence

“-Seongwoo!” A voice cut through Seongwoo’s sleep, causing him to jolt up.

 

“Mnn…” The captain groaned. His face scrunched into an expression of displeasure. With a loud yawn, he stretched his body languorously. His limbs tangled with the heaping of blankets that sat atop his body. Dull pain knocked at his temples, and he labored to ignore it.

 

Light painted the Captain’s quarters in cracks, little slivers sneaking in between the heavy damask curtains. Even the tiny stripes of white caused the captain’s eyes to sting. He sleepily discerned the intruder: short, stocky, plainly dressed. A lowly errand boy, probably.

 

Seongwoo nearly wanted to congratulate the kid for not knocking anything over on his way in. While his massive mahogany desk stood very apparently in the middle, treasures and trinkets littered all of the other surfaces. Tall shelves spanned the wall opposite his bed. Gems, coins, compasses and books had been crammed inside, and many of them spilled out beyond the boundaries of the set in shelving. A couple of ornate woven rugs sat on the floor - a comely detail that often caused the captain himself to stumble. Even his bed was perilous; built into the wall and surrounded by shelves, one wrongful footfall could mean raining down knick knacks on the man in charge.

 

“C-Captain Seongwoo!” The person stammered. They shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

 

“Mn,” Seongwoo rubbed his eyes, sitting up. He felt dazed and disoriented, but tried his best to appear at least somewhat coherent. “What is it?” One of the deck boys stood beside his bed, wringing his hands nervously. Seongwoo pursed his lips in displeasure; the boy clearly bore bad news.

 

“We appear to have a situation, sir,” The deck hand reported. He stood upright, straighter than a plank.

 

Dread filled Seongwoo, and he labored not to sound too disappointed upon responding, “What kind of situation?”

 

“W-well, um-”

 

“-Because - and correct me if I am wrong - I recall leaving Taeseob in charge. If I am not mistaken, I left very explicit instructions dictating that I am not to be disturbed.”

 

“-um, well, you see-”

 

“So tell me, boy, why the hell have I been disturbed?” Seongwoo asked demandingly. The straining sensation in his temples did nothing to soothe his irritation. He felt as if he’d spent an immense time sleeping. Yet, none of it had yielded any semblance of restfulness. It vexed him to no end, and the interruption only served to advance his irritation.

 

“Orders from Taeseob told me to fetch you,” The boy said, his voice squeaking with nerves. He swallowed visibly, and the sight made guilt swell inside the captain’s chest. Of course, Seongwoo thought, he was merely following orders.

 

The captain sighed, sitting up straight and addressing the boy with a more steady tone, “May I ask why the first mate has summoned me?”

 

“There, um, there appears to be a situation.”

 

“So I gathered,” Seongwoo said. He watched the boy expectantly, hoping his sleep’s hasty interruption wasn’t for naught.

 

“It’s the- the prisoners, Captain. They’d gotten out, but, um, we’ve collected them again. Two are accounted for, but, um, one is being a bit of a bother. He’s in the forecastle study.” 

 

Dread lodged itself in Seongwoo’s throat. Hastily, he threw his blankets off and began throwing clothes on. The deck boy reels back, his own anxiety clearly apparent. Ignoring the boy, the captain strode across his quarters. Upon reaching a large chest, he threw the top off and began rifling through. The deck hand watched on nervously, his mouth flapping slightly before he could muster his statement.

 

“S-sir, what ought I-”

 

“You’re dismissed,” Seongwoo cut the boy off bluntly. He gave a dismissive wave, not bothering to give the hand any further consideration. The boy gave a hasty bow before bounding off. Seongwoo heard the doors to his quarters open and shut. Then silence.

 

The captain paced over to his windows, throwing his curtains open for more light. He immediately regretted his action, for the overwhelming light nearly blinded him.

 

“Shit,” He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit, shit, shit…” His mind reeled with curiosity regarding the nature of his “situation”. An escape? How? He adored his lieutenants, but the bunch had a historical tendency to jest in excess. A mental note was made regarding their consequences. A prisoner had gotten out, he wondered: who?

 

Advisor Yoon seemed unlikely. He didn’t seem the type to rock the boat, and he’d demonstrated the least combat prowess to Seongwoo’s knowledge. General Park seemed the most likely candidate. If anyone could stir trouble and muster an escape, it would be him. Seongwoo gritted his teeth just envisioning the man. Even tied up and buried deep in the brig, Park Jihoon vexed him. He thought he’d be free of the curse known as General Park once he’d been free. Apparently, it wasn’t the case.

 

Seongwoo made a hardy attempt not to acknowledge the third possibility. Unfortunately, his traitorous mind refused to cooperate. Daniel was incredibly capable when he applied himself. However, he’d been so far gone due to his reaction to the opium. Ong quickly dismissed the idea of him being insurgent. He prepared himself mentally for facing General Park Jihoon.

 

The sea looked serene beyond the pane of glass in the captain’s quarters. He watched idly for a few moments in hopes that the serene beauty would calm his ailing mind. Sunlight glistened off of the blue surface of the sea; it glittered and danced effervescently, completely ignorant of humanity’s perils. Completely uncaring, it seemed. 

 

How they sailed endlessly across it, carrying shiploads of effort and toil. Yet the sea never knew. It merely ebbed and flowed with a force all its own. Be it the work of Mother Nature, God, or some other deitic being, the ocean knew to whom it answered. It certainly was not mankind.

 

Ong knew it would happen; he was well aware that he would have to face all of them in time. However, he hadn’t anticipated that time coming so soon. He’d planned on doing so when they docked. The captain frowned. His heart sunk into his stomach, and anxiety whispered in his ear. It told him a truth that he so greatly wanted to ignore, to suffocate and bury under duties and mid-afternoon naps:

 

“You’re not ready to face them.”

 

The voice told him with full confidence.

 

“You’re not ready to face him.”

 

Another dagger in the chest, courtesy of his deeply personal truths.

  
Seongwoo wrung a hand down his face as if the gesture would wipe the looming dread out of his mind. He returned to his chest, newly determined to find adequately clean clothing with which to present himself to the delinquent prisoner. The captain pursed his lips and assessed the garments he withdrew. After careful consideration, he chose some of the less worn pieces of his wardrobe and threw them on.

 

A white tunic with a laced up placket had been thrown over his shoulders. His black breeches laced up the side and in front, and he wore matching black boots. The most laborious part of the dressing process had always been the extra layers. On top of the tunic he layered a leather vest (though he had not the motivation nor desire to lace it up to completion). Atop that, his hefty belt had holsters for a sheathed sword and multiple daggers. From another large chest he yanked the first coat he could find: a black brocade jacket  with elaborately crafted silver buttons. A few other adornments were thrown on top: earrings, a leather wrist cuff, a ring, and a sash around the neck.

 

When he’d finished dressing, Seongwoo crossed over to the nearby looking glass to inspect himself. He frowned at his appearance. The whirlwind of transitioning back into captainhood had visibly taken its toll on him. His dark circles appeared more pronounced than they had in a long time, no doubt due to his inability to properly rest. Sleep had tousled his hair, and gritty stubble peppered his jawline. 

 

Heaving a sigh, the captain scanned the room for water - be it in a bowl, bottle, or canteen. Finally, his eyes settled upon a buckskin on his mahogany table, and he nearly lunged for it. Snatching the buckskin, he splashed his face liberally with water. His head darted in every which direction in search of his straight razor. Finally, upon finding it, he stood in front of his mirror once more and carefully slid it along his skin. When he finished, he spilled more water onto his hands and ran them through his hair. It by no means compared to the luxuries he’d had at Castle Jeon, but he felt secure knowing that everything in his bed chambers belonged to him. 

 

He gave himself a last assessment. The water had helped settle his hair into some semblance of adequacy, and his face was no longer mottled with patches of hair. Seongwoo considered it a victory. A small nerve still gnawed at his chest. It told him that it wasn’t good enough; the little scratch of stress even had the gall to whisper to him: “They will question why they’d found you so fetching in the first place.”

 

Seongwoo lightly smacked his cheeks. Such thoughts were preposterous. What importance did their opinion of his appearance have to him? His survival no longer hinged on appearing shiny and pretty to appeal to a master. He was acting captain of the ship on which they were prisoners. Ong reminded himself: they ought to be the ones agonizing over his opinion on them. One false move and he could have them sentenced to death. That, he told himself, was what mattered.

 

With that thought willfully burned into his mind, Captain Ong Seongwoo set out, onto the main deck.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think the Captain’s gonna do to us?” Moko asked Yua. The three lieutenants had been leaning over the railing on the main deck. 

 

“I’m not sure. What I do know is that we need have to apologize first. Own up to our mistake,” Yua nodded determinedly.

 

“But I got headbutted…” Moko groaned.

 

Miko pouted, “Do you think the Kang lot are going to keep causing a stir?”

 

“Not if they know what’s good for ‘em!” Moko raised a clenched fist. The other two giggled in response.

 

“Well, these people are used to being pampered. Once they see how it is on the Vengeance, they ought to come around. Unfortunate that of all nobility we had to go after the highest ranked ones,” Yua mused aloud.

 

“Ugh,” Miko scoffed, “Spoiled, they are.”

 

“Our prisoners are, indeed,” Yua concurred, “But… Not all of them.” She turned around, looking at the deckhands and workers walking across the deck. A single figure on the larboard side of the main deck stood, much like them. They loomed over the railing, watching the waves roll by. “Some of them had to make real sacrifices, just like us.”

 

* * *

 

Sunlight flooded Seongwoo’s vision as he stepped out onto the deck. His boots hit the planks of wood with a satisfying clack, and immediately eyes turned toward him. All signs of the questioning man in the bedchambers departed with immediacy. Though anxiousness persistently roiled in his chest, he walked upright with confidence. 

 

He was Captain Ong Seongwoo, commander of the Onyx Vengeance. No series of trials, no matter how traumatizing, took that away from him. 

 

Aloofly, Seongwoo set into a slow stride toward the fore study. He scrutinized the activity on the main deck in the meanwhile. Deck hands ran about eagerly doing all manners of chores. Some carried buckets of waters and brooms, others ran up and down the stairs leading into the belly of the galleon. Gazing up, Seongwoo could see his navigators earnestly studying the horizon in one of the crow’s nests.

“Afternoon, Captain!” A deckmaid said jovially as she passed the Captain. She gave him a quick smile before trotting away, her hands full of sacks of rice. Seongwoo nodded after the woman. A small smile managed to realize itself on his features.

 

“Captain Ong!” “Captain!” Two deck boys regarded their leader in unison. They halted their sweeping to regard the man with plank-straight posture and deep bows. 

 

“At ease,” Seongwoo chuckled; the two boys looked like they hadn’t completely transitioned into adolescence. Confidence began seeping into Seongwoo’s dour mood, lifting him slightly. With each step he took, greetings followed. Yet, among polite and even cheery regards, whispers managed to wander into the Captain’s ears.  He couldn’t pinpoint whom. All his ears could discern were a few voices with less affable regards.

 

“Is that the Captain?” “Whoa, Captain Ong’s finally out.” “I saw him the other day, I did. In the dead of the night- I swear!” “What? You saw him?!” “When’s the last time he left his quarters? I swear, I’ve not seen him since his return.” 

 

Seongwoo did not allow the chatter to shake him - at least, not visibly. His stomach knotted with each little utterance that entered his ears.

 

“I’d suspected his return was phony…” “Taeseob’s been in charge for a long time, hasn’t he?” “I heard he’s been sleeping all this time.” “Someone told me he was sick.” “He looks fine to me!” “I wonder when the Captain will be the Captain again…”

 

Suddenly, a choir of three voices rose well above the rest. They came from behind the man, shouting in unison:

 

“Captain, we’re sorry!” The lieutenants: Miko, Moko, and Yua.

 

Seongwoo’s shoulders sagged with relief. Finally, he thought, some respect; and, on top of that, a resemblance of normality. He turned, regarding the trio of women with a genial smile. 

 

“And for what, precisely, are you sorry?” Seongwoo asked, quirking an eyebrow. He knew damn well what they’d done, but hearing them verbalize it was part of their penance. Yua, the leader among the three lieutenants, stepped forward. Posture straight as an arrow, she looked the Captain in the eye and spoke.

 

“Our negligence caused two of our high priority prisoners to break out from their confinement. There was a skirmish in the brig and we underestimated their capabilities. This is a mistake we will not repeat,” She said sternly.

 

“And what of you three? You look well. Have you sustained any injuries? And the crew?” Seongwoo asked.

 

“No, sir,” Yua replied, “Well- Moko did suffer a rather rough blow to the head, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

 

“Moko,” The Captain turned to the other lieutenant, “Are you alright, then?”

 

“Yes, Captain. A bit of a bump is all. Takes more than a hard skull to keep me down,” She replied.

 

Seongwoo chuckled to himself, nodding with satisfaction, “Good to hear. Please, assure the doctor’s got you taken care of. Even a mere bump can cause a myriad of troubles if not properly addressed.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Moko chirped back.

 

“While I am most glad you are all well, there is the matter of punishment that needs to be discussed,” Seongwoo said. The trio tensed up, nodding nervously. Ong wracked his brain for what he thought would be adequate. From what they’d told him, a fight had broken out and they’d been bested. How the hell three capable lieutenants of the Onyx Vengeance could lose to three sad, drugged up nobles, he did not know. However, as he’d noted prior, General Park in particular was a rather crafty, formidable individual. Seongwoo would not put it past the man to pull a dirty trick or two in order to make an escape. It wasn’t as if they’d left their posts for hours on end. He glanced across the deck at all the workers conducting their duties. Suddenly, a spark ignited in his head. He knew precisely what their punishment would be.

 

“We shall discuss the consequences of your negligence later,” Seongwoo told the three with finality. Their shoulders all went slack with relief. “As of now, I shall impose upon you the importance of conducting your duties without inciting fights.”

 

“We didn’t start it this time!” Miko piped up. Yua squeezed the bridge of her nose and Moko wrung a hand through her hair in response. Seongwoo held back a snort himself. The three had been cut from a rougher cloth than he, but they were excellent officers nonetheless. Their quirks always served to amuse him. He felt immensely grateful that they’d given him a small breath of fresh air. Even the briefest of recesses from the worries buzzing about in his head felt like an incredible blessing.

 

“And for that, I am proud of you,” Seongwoo gave the three a wave of dismissal before walking back toward the foredeck. The allegiance of petty deckhands was turbulent; their opinion of their captain aligned with how full their bellies were and in which direction the wind blew. However, knowing he still had the utmost respect from his highest ranking officers gave Seongwoo peace of mind. With their support, he felt assured that he could transition back into the role of captain with time.

 

The Captain continued his trip toward the study. His feet moved slowly - as slowly as he could possibly excuse. Still, in a time he felt all too short, he soon arrived at the wooden door leading to the fore study. Each step he took forward caused pressure to stack on his shoulders with increased force. His heartbeat began drowning out the sound of the sea and those dashing about the deck. Just beyond that threshold, he was to face one of his demons; a reminder of what his life had been for the months before. A stark reminder of who he’d become - if only for a short duration. Swallowing hard, Seongwoo took a deep breath.

 

He prayed: God give me strength. 

 

Approaching the study’s door, he laid a hand on the knob. Something muffled sounded through the door. No words could be scrutinized, but Seongwoo could discern that someone was screaming. He took another deep breath, this one shakier than the last. Then, slowly, he turned the knob and entered the study.

 

_ “Squeaaak.” “Slam!” _

 

Seongwoo shut the door behind him.

 

Suddenly, complete and utter paralysis.

 

Even from behind, the man was unmistakable to Seongwoo. His eyes had canvased those muscular, broad shoulders many times.

 

Time stood still, and silence filled the room like a thick fog.  It even managed to suffocate the ship’s groaning and the crashing of waves. Seongwoo’s heart clenched, and dread sucked the air out of his lungs. Even more trying was the knowledge that he had to remain nonchalant, uncaring.

 

The voices had been right.

 

He wasn’t ready.

 

Unlucky for the captain, he had run out of time. He had to face him. The most fearful demon of all: Daniel.

 

_ “Clop. Clop. Clop.” _ Seongwoo’s boots sounded deafening in the oppressive silence of the study. He walked slowly in hopes that it would slow time down. Stalling meant he bought precious seconds to prepare himself for facing the other. 

  
Captain Seongwoo did not bother looking at his guards, nor did he regard Taeseob immediately. He merely stepped inward with purpose. Next to the rowdy prisoner, he took pause. He glanced down at the man, and something stabbed his chest. The pain nearly knocked Seongwoo back. It felt so much more encompassing than a mere physical ache. A sense of despair he’d seldom known trickled into his bloodstream, irking his entire being.

  
He kept moving. 

 

He had to.

 

It took entirely too much mental energy to accomplish, but the Captain continued walking. He suppressed his urges, the agonized wails of his shattered heart begging him to reach out, to turn back time. None of those things were doable. And so, onward he walked. 

 

“Captain,” Taeseob said. Seongwoo’s eyes met the first mate’s. He felt as if the other had looked through him completely; Taeseob’s eyes displayed a shade of knowing pity. Still, much like his Captain, he remained stoic.

 

“Are you the one in charge?” The resolute voice came to Seongwoo as a shock. He nearly flinched upon hearing it. Feeling ill, Seongwoo turned to look down at the man.

 

He’d been bound tightly by the ankles and wrists, and a thick black cloth had been tied around his eyes. Even in such a state of vulnerability, he sat upright, undeterred. Seongwoo’s heart swelled. He could muster no response.

 

“So you refuse to even acknowledge me? Coward! As I told your peon here, you will all face my military’s wrath when they converge upon you. God have mercy on your fucking soul. Until then, I demand to know one thing- alright? One. Fucking. Thing. Where is Seongwoo?”

 

Seongwoo tried not to let his eyes widen. His jaw dropped in reflex, but he quickly closed it, hoping the guards hadn’t seen. Everything in the Captain’s body tensed. His shoulders locked and his hands clenched into fists. The man, servant to an entire Kingdom, had so determinedly stood up to the Captain - the one who’d executed his demise. Yet, of all things for him to demand, to ask, he only asked after one person.

 

It hurt.

 

Seongwoo hurt.

 

“Do not play ignorant, I’m aware you know damn well he is my beloved-” Hearing those particular words from Daniel made Seongwoo nearly buckle at the knees. 

 

It would be the last time the man would regard him as such. 

 

The downtrodden King persisted,“-I am sure nothing would please you more than to hurt him to spite me. I can ask that my military officers take mercy on you if you cooperate and tell me.”

 

The Captain glanced toward Taeseob. His first mate’s intense gaze lent Seongwoo no comfort. Taeseob looked Seongwoo in the eye, then turned to face Daniel. When his eyes returned to Ong, he gave a nod; as if to say: “You know what you need to do.” 

 

Seongwoo appreciated his first mate’s undying loyalty and friendship, but in that moment he wished the man wasn’t such a true friend. A run of the mill ally would likely try to soothe him, to ease the pain. Taeseob engaged in no such coddling. He pushed Seongwoo to do what was necessary: to face the man head-on.

 

“You lot have one last time to answer me,” Daniel seethed. Yelling with all his might, he demanded, “Where is my Seongwoo?!”

 

Unable to bear the tortuous clawing inside of him any longer, Seongwoo approached Daniel. In one deft movement, he untied the simple knot of the blindfold. He yanked it off quickly and swallowed hard. With an immense will, Seongwoo let all emotion fall from his face, showing only cool indifference.

 

“I’m right here,” Seongwoo said coldly. “Daniel, welcome aboard the Onyx Vengeance.”

 

Daniel’s eyes - which had been squinted from the sun - glazed over with disbelief. His mouth dropped ever so slightly open, but not a sound came out. He simply stared in awe or shock. Seongwoo wasn’t sure. It took an incredible effort for the Captain to remain calm and steady, but he did so. 

 

He looked down at the man: a pathetic, dirty, tied up mess on the ground. Seeing Daniel and knowing he could do nothing wounded him. Seongwoo felt like a prisoner in his own body. He lashed out from the confines of his duties and obligations, of reality itself. It was futile, though. Emotions did not dictate what he could and could not do - not in such an instance.

 

“No,” Finally, Daniel spoke. The word came out hoarsely.

 

Seongwoo looked to Taeseob, as if the man would provide a cushion of support. Unfortunately, in that instance, Taeseob only delved out a sterner brand of love. The first mate once again looked pointedly at the prisoner, willing his captain on silently: “Go on. Tell him what you have to say.” The captain’s eyes returned to the bound King before him.

 

“Yes,” Seongwoo responded. He kept his pupils trained on a floorboard across the room. 

 

“No,” Daniel said more insistently. “You… It cannot be...” His face remained awestruck.

 

“My name is Ong Seongwoo. I am Captain of the fine vessel you are on: The Onyx Vengeance.”

 

The King answered dazedly,“Wha-?” 

 

“You are our prisoner now. The Kingdom believes you to be dead and is under the rule of someone else. You needn’t worry about them,” Seongwoo labored to keep his voice steady and authoritative, “I suggest you be mindful of yourself from now on. Stay in line, and you won’t come in harm’s way.”

 

“Wh- Wha- Seongwoo? What’s- What’s going on?” Daniel looked up at the Captain with wide eyes. Ong made sure to avoid the other’s gaze.

 

“I believe I just explained.”

 

“I’m- I’m on a ship…? And you are- No, I… I am dreaming again,” Daniel muttered.

 

“I assure you this is no dream. Misbehave again and it will become a nightmare-”

 

“No,” Daniel interjected. His voice sounded scratchy, and he clearly labored to speak. Still, he insisted, “No. I- You are not this person. No!” His voice echoed across the study.

 

“What you do and do not believe is of no concern to me,” The captain said.

 

“How could you… How could I- Wha- Wh-” Daniel’s chest started bobbing rapidly with labored breath. “I- N-No, you- you came to me and you said-”

 

“Calm yourself. You will faint if you persist.”

 

“You- you- you, I- I love you with- with all my heart,” Daniel’s face scrunched in pain. Seongwoo could not tell whether it was physical or emotional. It mattered not; the mere sight of it made the other’s afflictions mirror in the Captain’s chest. 

 

To worsen matters, snickering sounded out from behind the prisoners. The guards’ hands shot to their faces to cover their snorts. Seongwoo’s blood turned to ice. Nobody could ever know about what had truly happened between them. He’d worked hard to keep his tales of Castle Jeon as vague as possible: he’d been enslaved, put to work as the King’s valet, and infiltrated the Kingdom with the closest connection possible. If his crew was aware of what had transpired in Castle Jeon, it would completely undermine him. All respect and regard for his authority would be ousted, and the Black Council would maroon him for compromising the mission so severely.

 

“Settle, prisoner,” Was all Seongwoo could say. He felt his grip on composure slipping.

 

“I- Settle? S-Settle?! How can I- I can’t. I cannot. I- You-” Daniel’s voice lowered, and his eyes searched for Seongwoo’s. Despite his most valiant efforts, Ong’s eyes found Daniel’s. Tears welled up in the prisoner’s eyes, and he murmured, “I love you.”

 

Uproarious laughter emerged from the two guards at the doorway. Their thin visage of calmness completely disintegrated, and the two doubled over. They leaned on one another for support. The sound of their laughs bounced around violently in the study. It reverberated in such a way that it warped their joy into something malignant, almost demonic sounding.

 

One sniffed, huffing and puffing as he remarked, “He-He loves you! You hear that, Captain? He-” He inhales sharply, “He loves you!”

 

“That’s fuckin’ rich!” The other joined in.

 

Daniel’s head dropped and his shoulders sagged. Seongwoo could see little droplets fall onto the floor beneath him. 

 

“Enough!” The Captain bellowed. The two guards halted immediately. One coughed awkwardly as he stood straight up, and the other quickly followed. The two remained at attention, two solid pillars of muscle and intimidation. “The man is obviously mad,” Seongwoo said, referring to Daniel, “We needn’t antagonize the ill. I’m sure he will behave in the future.”

 

“Sorry, Captain,” One of the men barked back, “Won’t happen again.”

 

The other chimed in sheepishly, “It’s just real funny, though, isn’t it? How could he possibly believe that you two were in-” He chuckled again, “-in love.” It incited another snort from his fellow guard, but the two quickly straightened out again.

 

“Seongwoo, p-please,” Daniel searched for the Captain’s eyes desperately. Stinging heat stabbed Seongwoo in the eyes, threatening to incite tearfall. “Seongwoo,” The prisoner’s voice sounded thick and frantic. It made Ong wish he could rip his ears off or plug them until he heard nothing.

 

“You are unwell,” Seongwoo insisted. In spite of his laborious effort, he could not keep his pupils away from the other’s. The prisoner’s dark eyes swept him away like a current, keeping him trapped, paralyzed like a gorgon.

  
Daniel swallowed down his despair just enough to even out his tone, “Look me in the eye and tell me you do not love me. That- that everything said was truly a lie.” He looked at Seongwoo intensely, a smolder behind his gaze.

 

Seongwoo unconsciously shook his head. He didn’t want to do what he was about to do. His heart wailed, begging him to halt. Words tumbled from his lips, though he could hardly call them his own. In his heart, he apologized to the other man.

 

“You made aggressive advances upon me, and I did what I thought necessary to survive. That is all. How could I-” Seongwoo had to pause in order to compose himself. He felt his entire body vibrate, buzzing, overfull with remorse and dread. Clenching his fists and taking a deep (though shaky) breath, he finished speaking, “-How could  _ you  _ be so stupid, to think I would ever love you?”

 

The two guards, apparently very entertained by the entire ordeal, broke out into another fit of laughter. It filled the study, a cacophonous din.

 

“Ha-” A croaking noise came from the prisoner’s dejected form, slicing through everything else. For a moment, Seongwoo feared the man was choking or having a fit of some sort. “Ha,” The noise happened again. It sounded slightly more clear. “Ha- ha-ha!” Though breathy and scratched sounding, the intent was easily distinguishable. Daniel was laughing.

 

Suddenly, he threw his head back. His face wrinkled in the way it always had when he laughed. His eyes reduced to mere crescents, and his lips stretched into a wide smile. The sound completely lacked any sort of soul or mirth. It sounded like wind whistling through dead trees. Fear trickled into the stewing swill of Seongwoo’s emotions.

 

Daniel’s mouth held a smile, but his eyes leered at Seongwoo briefly. When they left, the prisoner turned to look over his shoulder at the two guards who’d just mocked him. He addressed them, his tone friendly - yet dripping with malice.

 

“He never told you what happened at Castle Jeon, did he?” Daniel said. Heat crept across Seongwoo’s cheeks until it reached the tips of his ears. He abhorred the man’s implication. The guards considered the prisoner with renowned interest. They looked to their captain as if he would elaborate. He had no intention of indulging them (or anyone).   
  


“I fear our prisoner is farther gone than I thought,” Seongwoo said, his tone clipped, “Be sure to fetch him some water when you-”

 

“Seongwoo, why don’t you tell them?” Daniel cut him off. His words sliced like a freshly forged blade. “Tell them what really happened in Castle Jeon?”

 

“I am under no obligation to indulge you, nor do I need to spin fairy tales to my-”

 

“Shall I tell them, then?”

 

Seongwoo clenched his fist; through gritted teeth, he tried to remain at ease, “They know everything-”

 

“Everything?” Daniel asked. He appeared entirely too amused, “Do they really know everything, Seongwoo?”

 

“Captain, shall we gag him again?” Taeseob asked from behind Seongwoo. Ong did not want to resort to such a measure, but he feared it would be necessary. 

 

“Why? Because I will tell truth?”

 

Seongwoo cut in, “Your fantasies have stopped being amusing. I suggest you quiet down or-”

 

“Or what? Or everyone will know about how shamelessly you sidled up to me in the bath?” Daniel snorted. Anxiety wrapped a tight fist around Seongwoo’s throat. It constricted his insides with such force that buzzing filled his ears. All vision tunneled on the treacherous mouth of the man sitting before him. 

 

Seongwoo commanded,“Stop spe-”

 

“Oh- Did you-” Daniel glanced at the prisoners, “Did he tell you about the time he ran after me through the pouring rain? It’d been coming down in sheets, truly. He could not  _ bear  _ the thought of being without me-”

 

“I said sto-”

 

“Wait- I- I apologize. Going out of order, I neglected to mention that he  _ threw  _ himself at the Duke,” A hollow chuckle came out of the ranting prisoner, “Served himself up to that pervert and his concubine like a fucking hog roast.” Daniel looked pointedly at Seongwoo. “Then- Oh! Our fantastic hunting trip! You know, the one where you chose to  _ tenderly _ nurse me back to health when I’d been left for dead.”

 

Seongwoo froze. His hands clenched into fists. He no longer believed the words entering his ears. Surely, he thought, this was not Daniel speaking. The man had been possessed by a spirit far uglier than his own.

 

“I will give you one more chance at silence,” Seongwoo informed the prisoner, “Before you are gagged for this entire journey.”

 

“Hm?” Daniel’s voice sounded tickled, which irked the captain ceaselessly. It made Ong’s skin crawl. “But I’ve yet to share my favorite bit-”

 

“You will cease this instant-” Seongwoo interjected.

 

“-where we made sweet love-”

 

“-if you know what’s right for you-”

 

“-and you moaned such saccharine little adorations-”

 

“-lest I cut out your tongue!”

 

“-ah, the veracity with which you screamed my name-”

 

“-I’ve had enough of your tales!” Seongwoo barked, instinctively reaching toward one of his sheathed daggers.

 

“-oh, how did you sound again,” The prisoner, bound and beaten, had the gall to obscenely pantomime as he jeered his captor. “Oh! God!  _ Daniel _ !” He threw his head back dramatically, crudely mimicking breathy moans. 

 

Red surged into Seongwoo’s vision. For the other to make a mockery of his vulnerability with such ease felt like a dagger to the heart. He’d by no means expected Daniel to be happy or even kind, but he hadn’t been prepared for what had unfolded before him. It burned Seongwoo, setting everything alight. His nerves, anxieties, worries, concern for the other, they all became fuel for the inferno blazing inside his chest.

 

“Oh! My feelings are  _ real _ , Daniel!” The prisoner parodied in high pitch contemptuously, “They’re true and rea-”

 

_ “Smaaack!” “Thud.” _

 

His body moved before his mind could fully comprehend what he’d done. One second, Seongwoo had been standing over Daniel. The next, he was looking down at the bound man’s splayed out form on the floor. 

 

“Know your place,” The words dropped from Seongwoo’s mouth acidically; remnants of anger flooding out through whatever possible exit they could find. A tense silence fell over the study in wake of his words. Discomfort quickly settled in, and the captain tried best to diffuse it upon coming down from his flare up. 

 

“I want him out of my sight,” Seongwoo commanded sternly. The guards - still in awed silence - obliged the order with haste. They clamored to each side of the prisoner, hoisting him up. Daniel’s head had clearly collided with the wooden planks of the floor, but no blood dripped from his head. Good, Seongwoo mused, there shan’t be any resources wasted on tending his injuries. The captain’s eyes met the prisoner’s bleary ones, and despite everything, Daniel spoke.

 

He muttered quietly, gaze intensely focused on Seongwoo, “Guess we’re even now.”

  
Seongwoo’s heart dropped even further - something he thought impossible. Those were the last words he heard from Daniel before his guards dragged him away. The two lowly crew members did not dare speak another word in their captain’s presence. They left with a curt self-dismissal, dragging Daniel through the door and shutting it behind. The door to the study shut with a soft creak, and the captain was left alone with his first mate. Seongwoo’s eyes stayed fixed on the doorway, following Daniel (though the man was beyond sight).

 

After a minute’s silence, he addressed his highest ranking officer.

 

“I told you I was not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency,” Seongwoo said, voice shaky.

 

“It was an emergency,” Taeseob answered, “The man was having a fit. I knew you were the only one capable of stopping i-”

 

“You could have knocked him out,” Seongwoo interjected. He tore his gaze away from the door to face Taeseob. He felt raw on the inside. He’d been agitated to the point of feeling exposed and irritated, abused even.

 

“Captain...” Taeseob frowned.

 

“You could have made the order to have him taken back to the brig. There was absolutely no need to-”

 

“No need to what, Seongwoo?” Taeseob crossed his arms indignantly, looking at the Captain intensely. “No need to interrupt your nap? Well, my sincerest apologies for disturbing your sleep. How  _ ever  _ could I do such a thing?”

 

“It does not matter what I was doing. You were given orders - simple orders - and you could not follow them. Do not act as if I am committing some injustice by expecting you to act according to orders,” Seongwoo’s voice raised gradually; he crossed his own arms, pacing toward his first mate.

 

“There was a situation that I believed you most fit to handle.”

 

Seongwoo scoffed, “Oh? ‘Most fit to handle’? Spare me. You did this to- to-”

 

“To what? To hurt you?” Taeseob sighed, grabbing the bridge of his nose for an instant. “Do you really think I would do such a thing to hurt you, Captain?”

 

“You resent the fact that I left you with so much responsibility for so long. I thought you could handle it, but apparently, I was wrong.”

 

“Now it is I who ask you to spare me,” Taeseob rolled his eyes.

 

“I can think of no other explana-”

 

“Enough!” Taeseob shouted over the man, “My patience has worn thin,” He sighed, shaking his head. “How long did you intend on letting that man believe you were his beloved?”

 

A rush of ill nausea ran over Seongwoo. He laboriously swallowed down the thick lump of anxiety blocking his throat. His pupils flitted away from the other, and anguished shame caused another rush of embarrassed heat to sting his face.

 

“I told you, I would speak to him myself when I was ready.”

 

“And when were you going to be ready?! How long was it going to take? Weeks? Months?”

 

“It wasn’t up to you to decide.”

 

“You could have sent back a messenger telling me to fuck off, but you came running immediately.”

 

“Because it is ultimately my duty-”

 

“Did you hope to see him?”

 

Seongwoo had always thought Taeseob was a brilliant man. He had an immense amount of quirks, but ultimately he stood next to Seongwoo as an incredible companion. However, at that moment, he immensely despised the other’s ability to see things. He was no diviner, but perhaps the role suited the man more than Ong had thought.

 

“The look on your face says it all,” Taeseob commented; he laughed wryly, “He had to know, Seongwoo. He needs to know that you are no longer some palace pet. That- that you are the  _ Captain  _ of this ship. That you were never just some slave.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?!” Seongwoo yelled back, exasperated. He snapped his mouth shut, ashamed of the outburst. “I…” He spoke more calmly, “I know. But I had planned on telling him in time, when- when things had settled-”

 

“No,” Taeseob imposed.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“No,” Taeseob said again, “No. I cannot watch you go on like this any longer. Whether you like it or not, you needed to face this- if only to overcome it sooner than later.”

 

“This has nothing to do with you.  _ You  _ didn’t need to do anything.”

 

“That’s shit,” The first mate spat back, “Pure shit, Seongwoo, and you know it. I can’t cover for your sorry ass forever. I can only make excuses for your insistence on locking yourself in your quarters for so long. Do you think people don’t notice? Do you think they don’t say anything?” Taeseob wrung a hand through his hair, “What am I supposed to tell our crew when you’ve locked yourself up for the hundredth time to sleep- for no apparent reason? Or when you’ve not left your room for days- Seongwoo,  _ days _ .”

 

It was true. All of it. Crushing guilt pressed down on Seongwoo with a force so immense he labored to breathe. He had no response. There was no adequate way to apologize for his incredible negligence. While he’d soothed his worries by reassuring himself Taeseob did an excellent job, he knew it did not justify his actions. Seongwoo felt sick reflecting upon it.

 

Taeseob sighed, and his tone softened, “I- I apologize, Captain.” He looked down sheepishly, clearly feeling bad for his own outburst. He’d said what he needed to, it seemed. “I…” His eyes met Seongwoo’s again, “Don’t worry about the Kang prisoners, Captain. You needn’t see them any longer unless it is genuinely, truly necessary. I will oversee their security in the meantime. Any issues will go through me.”

 

“Thank you,” Was all Seongwoo could muster as a reply. He wasn’t sure how else to respond.

 

“Go get some rest,” Taeseob said, a frown still across his lips, “You look as if you need it.”

 

“I think… I think I shall stay here,” Seongwoo said, crossing over to the desk covered in maps, next to Taeseob.

 

“Very good, Captain,” Taeseob replied. He gave Seongwoo a nod, striding toward the door. “I’ll be on the foredeck should you need anything.”

 

“Of course,” Seongwoo said.

 

“And Captain,” Taeseob turned to Seongwoo, looking him earnestly in the eye one last time, “I’m sorry.”

 

Ong shook his head, “You needn’t apologize. Your concerns are more than valid, and… I appreciate that you speak without reservation. It is unfair of me to ask you to shoulder my duties due to my… Issues.”

 

“Captain- Seongwoo,” Taeseob’s voice softened more, as did his face, “I wasn’t referring to our argument.” He gave Seongwoo a knowing look.

 

Another pang of pain wracked the Captain, but he kept a straight face. Nodding, he answered;

 

“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. If- if you would be so kind as to leave me.”

 

“Of course,” Taeseob said. With that, he dismissed himself. Seongwoo watched the wooden door shut before the man, waiting a few moments before moving himself.

 

Slowly, the captain walked over to the windows spanning the fore study. One by one, he shut the curtains to each one. Soon, only slivers of light dared sneak into the space. The captain plopped down into the chair at the desk and stared at his hands for a few moments. He hunched over, cradling his head in his arms atop his desk. 

 

A heavy sigh left his lips. Then another. His body shook, and he anticipated the pain that he would endure the next few hours to be acute. Tear droplets fell from his eyes onto the maps and notes below with a soft sound. His body rattled, and his chest started heaving violently. Fingers instinctively grasped at the papers beneath with white knuckles, crinkling them loudly.

 

Unable to hold it at bay any longer, he sobbed.

 

* * *

 

Loud snickering echoed across the wooden corridors of the Onyx Vengeance. Daniel struggled to keep up as the guards at his side dragged him along. The shadows cast by hanging lamps shifted and moved maliciously. They smeared into one another in the prisoner’s bleary vision. The cackling of his keepers resembled a howl more than a man’s laughter. 

  
Devastation suffocated Daniel. It had drowned him during his confrontation; with an unyielding grip, it pulled him under and filled him to the brim. The pain of uncertainty transitioned. It evolved into such a beast that even he, the man feeling it, experiencing it, could not begin to process it. No words could adequately describe what emotion he’d been abruptly drenched in. 

 

Thoughts and ideas started fading from his mind, left behind on the trek to his new captivity. They no longer mattered it seemed. Everything he had known, what he had fought so hard to achieve, it was of no consequence. His existence as he’d known it no longer meant anything. How long would they see fit to keep him alive? He wondered. Perhaps they were merciful - a small optimism inside of him hoped to believe that. Another part dreaded that his life was to expire when their amusement with his pitiful state did. His cheek and head still felt sore from the blow he’d taken. Even so, the smack to the face had hurt the least among everything. 

 

Daniel had been the victim of an act of heinous betrayal. While his outburst had been directed to one individual, he felt most galled at himself. Words ran through his head with the persistence of the second hand around a clock:

 

“Know your place.”

 

Those were words that he’d once spat at the other when the position of powers had been reversed. That, above all else, sent the man teetering downward. It had been upon hearing those words that he realized: it was impossible for Seongwoo to have loved him. How could one possibly love a person after they’d been treated in such a way? The way Seongwoo looked down at him, eyes incomprehensibly furious, told Daniel everything. Throwing that mistake in the prisoner’s face served as proof; Seongwoo neither forgave nor did he forget. 

 

He’d likely held onto those feelings for a long time, Daniel figured.

 

Wretched thoughts flooded into his head like a swarm of vermin. They weighed him down, causing him to sink further and further as he neared his destination. Little, evil things volleyed his heart around in his chest violently. His head filled with nasty thoughts, courtesy of their voices:

 

“It must have irked him to even be near you.” “He probably felt miserable having to touch you.” “Being with you must have been hell for him.” “Did he spread rumors to undermine you as well?” “Perhaps he imagined someone else when he was with you.” “How could he have loved someone as pathetic and spineless as you?” “He’s probably laughing right now.”

 

Daniel had no fight in him to combat the myriad agonies. His conscious focus was on remaining upright, taking steady steps. They were probably right, he supposed. It mattered not whether they were right or wrong. Nothing mattered, for he was to be locked up for some undisclosed measure of time.

 

“ _ Creaaaak _ .”

 

One of the guards opened a door in the corridor. They had arrived.

 

“Welcome to your new quarters,  _ your majesty _ ,” One of the men sneered mockingly. He gave Daniel a rough shove, and the captive stumbled, crumbling onto the ground. The two looking over him laughed as he winced in pain. 

 

“It’s no palace, but consider yourself lucky, you got a  _ luxurious _ , private cell,” The other snickered. “No more escape attempts with your old comrades, you hear?”

 

The two paced across the small cell - its size was comparable to a closet or a pantry as opposed to any sort of residence. It looked similar to the other space: completely constructed of squeaky, groaning wood with a single, dim lantern keeping it alight. Unlike the other, there were a few extra objects (they could hardly be deemed furniture or decor). A mat of sorts had been rolled out on one side, and there was a pot on the other.

 

_ “Clink.” “Thud. Thud-” “Clink.” _

 

The telltale metallic sound of a chain sounded out. Daniel remained still as they affixed a metal collar around his neck. 

 

“That’s a good boy,” One of the guards joked. The two stood upright, assessing their work. Daniel showcased no desire to struggle or even speak. “Fuck. Would you look at that? One slap upside the head from the Captain and he’s been trained.” The prisoner gave no response. He remained laid out on the ground, staring at the wall. His eyes looked almost glassy, and had it not been for the bobbing of his chest, he’d have been mistaken for dead.

 

“You best stay that way, too,” The other said, looking down at Daniel’s limp form on the ground. “You’ll get water once a day. Twice if you’re good. Food if you behave. Keep that shit-eating mouth of yours shut and show some respect, then we can talk about removing your bindings.”

 

The prisoner still refused to speak. Neither of the guards cared. They exchanged curious glances before unceremoniously exiting. 

 

_ “Thud!” “Click.” _

 

The door shut behind them with the unmistakable noise of a lock. He was trapped. 

 

Daniel didn’t even bother moving over to the makeshift bed. He merely shut his eyes and willed his consciousness to fade. Nothingness would be better than the fate he’d befallen; of that, he is convinced.

 

* * *

 

“Duke Hwang,” A petite messenger darkened the doorway of the Duke’s new bedchambers. The recent devastations that had come over Castle Jeon necessitated a move. “A visitor for you.”

 

Duke Hwang Minhyun laid beneath a heaping of down blankets on his large bed. He’d been moved from his previous quarters to a larger room with different decor. Deep red damask patterns cascaded down the walls, meeting the gleaming tiled floor with dark wood molding. The wood of the massive bed frame matched the dark cherry of the moulding, and it stood exceptionally high. Red brocade adorned nearly every textile in the room; from his topmost blanket to the upholstery of his dressing table seat. It appeared as if the Duke’s quarters had been crafted to pay homage to bloodshed - in a celebratory way.

 

“May I ask whom?” The Duke answered, sitting up slightly. He winced. Mere movement still proved rather painful and laborious.

 

“His majesty, Prince Daehwi,” The messenger replied.

 

“Ah. Soon to be King Daehwi, that is.”

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

“Let him in,” The Duke instructed the boy. His servant did as told, opening the door to reveal the stately form of Lee Daehwi.

 

The young man stood tall, the picture of poise. From his arms, a large bundle of beautiful red roses cascaded. A soft smile graced his plush lips, and even his skin appeared to glow with more luminescence than it had previously. His lavender coordinate looked comely against his porcelain skin; he looked like a flower-bearing angel of sorts. A sight for the Duke’s sore eyes.

 

“You are dismissed,” Duke Hwang waved the messenger away. When the boy obliged, shutting the door behind him, he greeted the Prince. “Good afternoon, your majesty. For you to hand deliver such a stunning arrangement yourself… I am truly blessed. Such consideration taken with your busy schedule is not something I take lightly.” In truth, Daehwi’s presence set Minhyun ever so slightly on edge.

 

Daehwi crossed the room, setting the large bouquet on the Duke’s sitting table near his window. He gave the Duke a charming grin before taking to his bedside.

 

“Good afternoon, Minhyun. How goes the recovery? What have the doctors been saying?” The Prince reached out a hand to squeeze the Duke’s reassuringly. The Duke had, in fact, been subjected to some vile treatment at the hands of the palace’s intruders. During the entire mess, Duke Hwang had been returning to his quarters for the night. He’d been assaulted by a throng of thugs and beaten severely. The blessing he took from it all was that most of the sustained injuries had been rather superficial. His face, in particular, had taken a wealth of abuse. The intruders had smashed his nose to the point of near deformation. Deep bruises blotched his face, neck, and ribs; one of his eyes had also been swollen shut from the force they’d used. Luckily, the swelling had gone down. They’d done enough to splinter a few bones, but according to the court doctor, nothing critical had been incurred.

 

“Thank you for your concern, majesty. The doctor says I ought to recover with a few weeks more bedrest. In all honesty, being stationary is more painful to me than these wounds. And you? It must be quite difficult to handle the Kingdom at a time like this. You have done so with remarkable resilience so far.”

 

“You flatter me,” Daehwi chuckled, “In truth, I only can handle it due to the loyal companionship of those around me. Such as you,” He squeezed the Duke’s hand again, “And, well…” He grew bashful, “Others.”

 

Minhyun gave the Prince a knowing smile, “Would you happen to mean a certain someone from the frigid north?”

 

Daehwi tittered but didn’t elaborate, “No matter. My point is that I am handling things well. As is our Kingdom.”

 

“Good to hear the transition went smoothly.”

 

“More than I could dream, truly. God himself must be watching over us.”

 

“Blessed be his name.”

 

“Indeed. Of course, you surely know I did not come to your bedside to pray, Duke.”

 

“So I figured,” The Duke nodded, his nerves rustling slightly at the man’s implication. “Your coronation?”

 

“Well, the matter is tangential to it, I suppose. Listen, Duke Hwang- Minhyun,” Daehwi looked the man in the eye. Minhyun swallowed nervously - then winced slightly due to it hurting him. “I believe you have paid your penance, do you not agree?”

 

“I… Suppose?” Minhyun wasn’t sure what the man meant, but he felt disinclined to question it.

 

“I believe so. When I ascend to the throne, I need someone I trust to be at my side. Someone loyal who understands the order of things.”

 

“It is important for a King to have genuine allies,” Minhyun remarked.

 

“Indeed. That is why I would like to personally ask you to consider the role of my advisor- when you are fully recovered, of course.”

 

Minhyun’s eyes widened, “Advisor?” He jumped slightly, which sent more pain rippling across his body.

 

“As I said: you have paid your dues. You are loyal, even despite your… Doubts.”

 

“I accept,” The Duke answered. He felt he had little choice; he’d been offered one of the highest ranks in nobility on a silver platter. Despite the implications underlining it, he knew choosing to accept was far favorable to the alternative.

 

“Excellent!” Daehwi grinned widely and clapped. “In such a turbulent time, it makes my heart swell to know that I have people whom I can trust.”

 

“Always, your majesty.”

 

Daehwi stood up and gave a nod to the Duke, “Apologies, but I must be off. Thank you for taking on such an important task.”

 

“It is an honor,” The Duke answered.

 

“Rest well,” Daehwi said, bending over to give the Duke a peck on the cheek. “You must be on your feet for the coronation ceremony. I refuse to have it any other way.”

 

“I look forward to it,” Minhyun said, “I cannot wait to break out of the doldrums of these chambers.”

 

“God bless you,” Daehwi said. He gave another courteous nod before gliding away. As the Prince shut the door behind him, Duke Hwang swallowed, nervously.

 

* * *

 

“How fares the Duke?” Prince Bae Jinyoung asked as Prince Daehwi exited the noble’s quarters.

 

“He is recovering well. He ought to be on his feet in weeks- so the doctors say.”

 

“Excellent, I am glad,” Jinyoung said. The two settled into a relaxed walking rhythm. Walks with Jinyoung had become an accustomed habit to Daehwi. They soothed him. The Bae Prince’s voice softened, and he added, “What of you?”

 

“I told you,” A small grin graced the Kang Prince’s lips, “You needn’t concern yourself with me.”

 

Jinyoung chuckled, “It’s not as if words can sway my heart. I will fuss over you, whether it pleases you or not.”

 

“And I shall always tell you that I am fine.”

 

“So we are at an impasse, then?” 

 

“It appears so,” The two locked eyes, and for a moment, the noise of the corridors dulled. Only their shared moment existed in that miniscule passage of time. The moment broke as quickly as it came, and soon the two erupted into a fit of giggles. When that quieted, Jinyoung grabbed Daehwi’s hand. The Prince’s mind paused slightly, a small thrill rising up in his chest at the contact.

 

Jinyoung gently interlocked their fingers; he looked Daehwi in the eye and spoke with incredible sincerity, “Daehwi, I truly mean it: Irene and I are here for you. I will stay here, by your side, as long as you need.”

 

“Jinyoung,” Daehwi felt his heart flutter in his chest, “You- You oughtn’t say such things. If you allow me to, I would keep you by my side forever.” He joked.

 

The Bae Prince gave a mischievous grin, “What a shame that would be,” He said facetiously.

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo returned to his quarters with a dull ache in his chest. His eyes were no doubt red, though he dared not look at himself. He heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes for the umpteenth time. After the words he’d had with Taeseob, he desired desperately to return to his old, authoritative self. Yet, there he found himself, fleeing once again to his quarters.

 

Tomorrow, he told himself, tomorrow is a new day; he swore to wake up the next day and begin rebuilding the trust between the crew and himself. As for that particular afternoon: he’d already mentally thrown it to the wind. It had been lost. His entire being still wavered at the thought of what had transpired, and he hardly had the will to show his face - let alone lead a crew.

 

Opening the door to his bedchambers, Seongwoo’s shoulders sagged with relief. As requested, his lunch had been delivered to the Captain’s Quarters. Atop his massive desk, a veritable spread of fruits, roasted meat, and bread had been spread it. It by no means compared to the decadent, finicky pastries of Castle Jeon, but by Seongwoo’s standards, it gave him all he could possibly want. 

 

However, the day’s particular table setting had been altered slightly. He’d assured that the crew cook had made sure there be enough for two people on that afternoon. His fellow diner had already let himself in. The man stood at the windows on the far side of his quarters, watching the sea.

 

Seongwoo swallowed nervously. He shut the door to his chambers behind him softly and wrung a hand down his face. The man looked well, and for that, he felt grateful. His hair looked more tousled than usual - likely due to the sea air - and even his posture betrayed the wandering nature of his thoughts. After mustering considerable courage (and fortifying his nerves so he wouldn’t cry) he addressed his guest.

 

“Thank you for joining me for lunch,” Seongwoo said, his voice soft. He stepped slowly toward his desk, nerves strung tightly. His appearance looked not unlike a person approaching an animal, anxious not to scare it away.

 

The man sighed; he turned around, meeting Seongwoo’s eyes. He looked equally as nervous, which gave the captain some reassurance. Finally, he spoke - for the first time in weeks, Seongwoo heard his voice. It nearly comforted him to hear something familiar, something that hadn’t changed since his time in Castle Jeon.

 

“Thank you,” He said, “For letting me be here with my husband.” Ha Sungwoon gave a polite nod before joining Seongwoo at the table for lunch.


	3. Proper Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2 WARNING(s): N/A

Nestled in a remote corner of Castle Jeon’s east wing was a small dining room. Though it saw little use due to it being a rather intimate setting, orders had been sent directly to the head maids to have it pristine for the evening. Upon hearing the news, Jung Eunji herself had seen fit to oversee preparations. The room itself had stunned the woman upon entrance. She hadn’t seen it for nearly a decade and had been swept away by its elaborate beauty immediately.

 

Vivid depictions of wartime triumphs spanned the walls; the artist had meticulously interwoven techniques of painting along with mosaic tilework. It resulted in a stunning, textural feast for the eyes. A long, narrow table constructed of cherry oak stretched across the space, and matching chairs upholstered with gold brocade lined each side. The intimate arrangement could only seat a dozen or so, but the maids had been instructed to set places for a fraction of that. Two white porcelain plates - gold trim gleaming in the light of the chandelier - had been set at opposite sides. The hand embroidered napkins resting on top of them had been folded in the likeness of a swan. Beneath it all, the dark wood of the floor shone with a similar veracity to that of the plates.

 

Between the place settings, the last remaining portion of the feast that had been prepared was being set out. Roasted pheasant and a variety of vegetables sat atop a grandiose platter. The woody fragrance of rosemary and sage filled the room, making the servants salivate. Rye and wheat loaves presented themselves in a basket to accompany it, along with a wide assortment of cheeses and fruits. A comely heap of sugar-coated sweetmeats sat to the side. 

 

“Watch where you’re pouring!” Eunji barked across the little dining room. She narrowed her eyes at the other maid as she polished one of the candelabras on the table. The importance of this particular dinner had been impressed upon her multiple times by Prince Daehwi’s ward. The head maid felt tempted to smack Hayoung for displaying such poor form, but she knew doing so would merely compromise the girl’s already shaky balance.

 

“I am! The wine’s going into the chalice, isn’t it?” Hayoung pouted, lifting up the crystal carafe.

 

“You best be sure it stays there! Lest it be your blood staining the cushions next.”

 

“Eunji!” Namjoo hollered from across the room. She and a few other servants had been shaking out the tapestries for the umpteenth time that evening. Even the slightest speck of dust was deemed unacceptable. “Why must you be so scary?”

 

Eunji put down the shining candelabra to quirk an eyebrow at Namjoo, “ _ I _ am scary?” She clucked her tongue, “I insist that the wrath of a dissatisfied royal is far more terrifying than any punishment I could ever dole out.”

 

Hayoung frowned, “But the Prince seems so even mannered. I am sure he would be most understanding in the circumstance of an accident.”

 

“Perhaps he may be, but whoever his esteemed guest is may not share his temperament. Regardless, we do not make mistakes,” Eunji returned to polishing the candelabra in earnest. “Whoever this person is, Prince Daehwi saw fit to have this old place dusted off.”

 

“And what a miserable thing it was,” Namjoo groaned in the distance - still lightly batting dust off of a tapestry. “This place was absolutely overtaken by webs! An entire family of spiders has likely taken residence in my hair.” She frowned. The other servants couldn’t help but giggle at her dismay. “It is not funny!”

 

“Quiet yourself, girl!” Eunji replied, a grin spreading across her lips, “It is getting quite late, and it would be most rude of you to wake that spider family.” More laughs followed the jest, filling the formal space with the warmth of camaraderie. 

 

“Miss Eunji,” Hayoung said, approaching her superior. She lowered her voice, leaning in so the other servants could not overhear, “You have been polishing that candelabra for nearly a quarter hour. I assure you, it is very clean. The enthusiasm with which you polish that thing raises some concerns.”

 

Eunji’s eyes widened, and she looked down at her hands. The beautifully crafted silver candelabra was, in fact, sparkling. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been working on it for so long. Guilt pinched her chest, and she set it down with finality. 

 

“Thank you, Hayoung. I just- it is our job to assure this goes absolutely flawlessly. The concern must have distracted me. Along with you lot worrying the hell out of me with your-” She waved in the general direction of the others, “-clumsiness.”

 

Hayoung took a deep breath before addressing Eunji once more; she looked at the other intently in the eyes, “Miss Eunji, please, tell us what is going on with you.”

 

“Wh- Going on? With me? I- Nothing is-” Eunji’s voice softened to a near whisper, “What are you on about girl?”

 

“Forgive me for speaking so forthrightly- given that you are a superior and all - but, you have been acting strangely. Ever since- well, ever since… You know,” Hayoung looked down.

 

“Since our King was killed,” Eunji finished the other’s sentence for her.

 

“Now, I know that it is a very upsetting event, but… It has been weeks, and, I… I am concerned is all. It is unlike you to be in such a state for so long after something has happened.”

 

Eunji bit her lips nervously. She assessed Hayoung, studying her in an attempt at understanding the depth of her intentions. After ascertaining that her junior maid meant no harm, she responded.

 

“I told you: I am merely a tad ruffled due to how busy things have been. After all, while the rest of the castle is able to wrap themselves in blankets and mourn, we cannot. We have work to do- and lots of it.”

 

“Yes, we do. Yet, you seem to crave more and more,” Hayoung crossed her arms resolutely, “I see you volunteering yourself to aid others on rounds- doing menial tasks. I hardly see you eat, and I can’t see I’ve even caught you going to your quarters. Do you sleep?”

 

“I am a head maid, it is my duty to keep things in this castle as they ought to be. As I’d told you, the death of a noble is a very dire thing. People cope in many ways, but we are relied upon to remain stable and consistent. Seasons come and go, but servants must always serve.”

 

“This isn’t about the death of a noble!” Hayoung’s whisper bordered on a quiet yell, “This is about Seongwoo!” 

 

“He’s dead!” Eunji blurted out. She snapped her lips shut immediately, her pupils quickly flitting away from Hayoung’s. A brief silence ensued.

 

“Y...Yes,” Hayoung said. Her lips turned downward, “Yes he is. And- and you are upset about this, clearly. So, you insist on drowning in work, but this is not good for you, miss!”

 

“Hm, yes, you’re quite right,” Eunji suddenly conceded. The lower maid’s eyes went wide at the swift turn in the other’s rhetoric. “I am being unhealthy. I shall address that. At a point. As of right now, what must be addressed is-” She looked across the tight dining room, “-this place.”

 

“You shall address it?” Hayoung’s faced scrunched with confusion, “What ever do you-”

 

Abruptly, footsteps at the door drew the attention of all inside it with haste. A stout messenger slipped in, nodding politely at those finishing preparations.

 

“His and her majesty are due in a quarter hour. You are all instructed to vacate in no more than five minutes. You-” He looked pointedly at the head maid, “-are to remain aside as an attendant. Two more from the kitchen will be in to serve the Prince and his guest momentarily. Thank you all,” He nodded again, “Good evening.”

 

“Wh- No fair!” Namjoo groaned from across the room, “Miss Eunji gets to stay?”

 

“You must tell us all about it!” Hayoung joked.

 

Given their short notice, the servants moved across the room in a whirlwind of quick, minute adjustments. Tapestries and textiles were nudged into perfect place; they gave each flat surface a quick swipe of the finger to assure that no dirt or dust had settled in the fray.

 

“Good luck, miss!” Namjoo said, flashing Eunji a grin before slipping out through the door. The other servants present gave similar farewells. Lastly, Hayoung stood by the door. She narrowed her eyes at Eunji, whispering to the woman once more.

 

“We are not done speaking,” She said fiercely before shutting the door behind her.

 

The slam echoed loudly across the empty dining room. Something about the sound’s reverberative quality made her feel incredibly alone in the room. Heaving a sigh, the maid took her spot at the far end of the room, where she shan’t be seen. She folded her hands in front of herself, the picture of pristine, stately servitude. Yet, beneath her cool exterior, there had been, in fact, a roaring battle.

 

Ever since the entire Harvest Festival debacle, her mind had been set aflame with concern. She had so many questions; yet, she also possessed answers. Answers that others so dearly wished they could have. Eunji wondered: would people kill for these answers? Thinking back on the history of the Empire, she knew the answer was yes. It mattered not. Nobody with noble blood would dare fraternize with a maid, let alone listen to what they have to say. Even if someone did indulge a servant with their time, they’d write them off as a lunatic quickly. At least, they would if they heard what Eunji had to say. She wrung her hands nervously, only looking up to greet the other servants who’d arrived.

 

Then, she waited. Not much time passed. To her, it felt like an eternity. Every minute of quiet assured more time for her thoughts and worries to buzz about in her head. She could hardly wait for Prince Daehwi and his guest to arrive. Though the maid could hardly begin to comprehend why he’d wanted to dine in such a tight space, she was in no position to question it. 

 

“ _ Creaak _ .” 

 

Finally, Eunji thought. She bowed deeply, not even bothering to look at the people walking in. It wasn’t as if they cared. Only when a few seconds had passed did she stand upright again. Though she knew it unrighteous, her ears strained to hear the conversation. At the very least, listening to the affairs of others distracted her from her own.

 

“...How beautiful!” The prim voice of a noble lady bounced off of the walls in the confined space. “These walls are absolutely spectacular, Daehwi.” Eunji made an effort to prevent her mouth from dropping open.

  
Queen Irene glided into the space, an absolute vision (per usual). Her deep red dress reflected the candlelight softly in its billowing skirts. Deep gold filigree lined the hem of the dress, and it banded her puffed sleeves as well. Gold braided lacing cinched in her tiny waist, creating the impression of a figure so slight that it nearly disappeared. The jewelry adorning her neck and ears was understated but undeniably rich. That seemed to be the woman’s all-encompassing aesthetic: opulent, yet modest. She did not demand attention, she merely captured it - as if it was her right. The maid supposed that, in a way, it was her right.

 

Prince Daehwi trailed behind, grinning fondly at the woman. He contrasted her so immensely that he appeared to have strolled in from an entirely different kingdom. His powdery blue coordinate appeared as a beacon in contrast to the Queen’s deep palette. Tiny pearls had been sewn into the quilted doublet, and delicate ribbons dangled from his wrists in pristinely tied bows. The young man chuckled genially as the door was shut behind him.

 

“This room does not see much use anymore, but I believe it ought to. The work put into it is unparalleled,” Daehwi took Queen Irene’s side, “The tiles had been imported from the northwest and put in one by one by a glass specialist.”

 

“They shimmer beautifully, it is as if we are among the stars,” Irene says, grinning wistfully, “As if these very scenes are depicted in the skies.”

 

“Our people have always revered nature. Always respected it…”

 

“So I can see - should your gardens be any indicator,” Irene commented. The two nobles strode over to their seats. “And you seem to honor food, as well. It smells decadent,” She said, taking a lengthy inhalation. “I see no reason to hesitate, shall we?”

 

Prince Daehwi nodded in affirmation, “I agree. Let us take our seats.” Without so much as another word, the two attendants who’d come in later scurry over to pull out the nobles’ chairs. The Prince and the Queen took their seats majestically and sat upright. The servants who’d seated them began serving food, and Eunji paced over to join them. While the workers scuttled between the two, neither Prince nor Queen acknowledged them. It never failed to amaze Eunji just how profoundly invisible servants were to those higher up. The two looked at one another as if there weren’t arms full of food and drink barring their view.

 

“Shall we pray?” The Prince suggested. Irene nodded - and, Eunji swore, even the mere motion of her moving her head appeared pretty. It awed her the regality the woman had. The two proceeded to pray before making a toast. When they’d finished with the various decorum that royal dining, apparently, required, they indulged.

 

Eunji watched in awe as the two ate. She swore she had seen birds eat with less delicacy than the two of them. They pecked and picked at their plates gently, never putting anything larger than their thumb into their mouths. The sight of it made her feel inclined to gorge herself. After hours of painstakingly curating a flawless meal, the cooks deserved better (or so she thought). 

 

Prince Daehwi and Queen Irene exchanged pleasantries for some time. The Prince told the Queen a few historical stories: won battles, artistic triumphs. The Queen drank in the information eagerly. If the woman was bored, she concealed it expertly. Eunji refilled their chalices a few time, and gradually things loosened up. Thank God, she thought to herself, some interesting conversation. Unfortunately, the spell of relative casualness was woefully short. The two had transitioned into sharing anecdotes and laughter when a hush fell over the Prince. He pressed his lips together nervously, and his pupils shifted about. Eunji could tell the young man’s hands were wringing each other in his lap.

 

“What are you thinking about, Prince?” Irene asked, picking up on the other’s change in demeanor. She gave a reassuring smile.

 

Prince Daehwi sighed before looking her in the eye, “In truth, there has been much on my mind as of late.”

 

“Of course there has,” Irene’s voice softened, “You have gone through a perilous time. I admire your strength. To possess such fortitude at your age is a boon.”

 

“Many thanks,” Daehwi’s nervous expression lessened, and his lips teased upward. “In these turbulent times, I have reflected upon many aspects of life- of my life. I suppose you can say it has occupied me of late.”

 

“Life and death… Two undisputable forces in this world. Man’s will has achieved incredible things, but those things we cannot stop. I imagine you have thought of much. Especially considering the King’s relation to you. You grew up together, did you not?”

 

“Yes, we did. Being that he was older, we were not always the closest, but he is still my blood. Was.”

 

“I apologize for bringing such things up,” Irene looked at Daehwi with a pitying frown. It was the most warmth Eunji had ever seen the Queen display. The reassurance that the woman was, indeed, human, soothed Eunji in a way.

 

“No. It was I who chose to discuss it, and… Well, it relates to what I want to say to you.”

 

“What you want to say to me?” Irene’s nurturing air immediately dissipated. Instead, acute interest happened across her features, and she eyed the Prince discerningly.

 

“Your company is most enjoyable, do not mistake that. However, you surely knew I had called you here with reason.”

 

“I thought it strange that my brother hadn’t been invited. I knew there had to be a reason. You two seem to get along quite well. Of course, we digress. Please, continue. I have no intention of interrupting you until you are finished.”

 

“Yes, thank you. I suppose I, myself, am hesitating. Drawing it out…” Daehwi chuckled to himself. “To speak clearly: my cousin’s death made me see something. Many things, actually. Our existence on Earth is uncertain and short. Your loved ones can be next to you one moment, only to be lifted into the heavens the next.

 

I know not how much time I have left. I hope it will be many years, but I am not sure. No longer do I want to hesitate in doing what is necessary- what I think is right. Nor do I desire to live a life of deprivation. As you know, my coronation is in mere weeks.”

 

Irene nodded in understanding. Her eyes gazed at the Prince as if she intended on studying his very soul. No other reaction could be gleaned from her expression. She merely waited patiently, the picture of a perfect, devout listener.

 

“Soon, I will be the King of a very powerful nation- a nation I intend on keeping in its place. When I do, I want somebody by my side.”

 

The Queen sat up straighter, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes widened subtly - Eunji doubted anyone else noticed. The maid’s head reeled in its own right. She could detect with ease where the conversation was directing.

 

“Queen Bae Irene, I love your brother,” Daehwi returned Irene’s gaze with a fierce one of his own. It spoke of nothing other than passion, genuinity. The reality of it shocked Eunji. Prince Daehwi had truly fallen in love with the Bae Prince. “I ask for your blessing to take his hand in marriage.”

 

Eunji’s body stiffened. The maid internally reeled from the shock overtaking her body. Marriage? Prince Daehwi to Bae Jinyoung? People had chattered nonstop about Daniel and the Queen, but Prince Daehwi had never risen in those conversations. While she did not doubt the boy possessed at least an infatuation for Prince Jinyoung, it still felt sudden. The maid briefly wondered if she’d knocked her head.

 

The Prince’s chair groaned loudly against the tile floor as he stood abruptly. He paced over to Queen Irene’s side and sunk down onto one knee. Head dipped low, he bowed. When he lifted his head, he spoke sincerely, his eyes trained on hers.

 

“I do not wish to bereave myself of happiness any longer. By my side, Jinyoung will know nothing but affection and loyalty. I am soon to be King of a powerful nation, and with your brother as my consort at my side, what is mine will be yours. If you would be so gracious as to bear the delegate heir, together, we can create the most formidable power the continent knows. We will have a legacy to leave our children. They will be secure and- and safe,” Daehwi’s voice softened slightly, as did his expression. “We can be family.”

 

Formidable power? “What is mine is yours”? Eunji swallowed a knot in her throat. Something about the Prince’s words inspired fear in her heart. She labored to look as serene and uncaring as possible as she glanced at Queen Irene. Her heart retreated into the pit in her chest.

 

Queen Irene stood up slowly and extended a hand to Prince Daehwi. Shyly, the Prince took it, standing up to join her. Her dark pupils bore into the Kang Prince exactingly. Though her period of assessment was brief, it felt like a lifetime to Eunji. No doubt Prince Daehwi felt similarly. He visibly swallowed, shrinking under the woman’s gaze.

 

After the pregnant pause, she finally broke the silence between them. In an instant, her face illuminated. It lit up, more boisterous and bright than any firework Eunji had seen. The maid clenched her skirt with white knuckles to vent some of the anxiety buzzing in her ears and chest.

 

“Daehwi,” Irene said, her voice quiet but laced with giddiness, “It would be an honor to welcome you into my family - and to be one of yours. And- And for my brother to be so blessed as to spend his life with- with someone who truly cares for him,” She chattered excitedly like someone ten years younger. Even her gait changed, and she bounced up and down slightly. “He had always wanted to marry for love, and- I never thought, I-” Her voice became thick, and her hand shot to her mouth.

 

“Oh- Oh my, Queen Irene, are you alright?” Daehwi asked, taken aback. He seemed just as emotional, wetness apparent in his eyes.

 

“Yes, I- I am just… Happy,” Queen Irene said with a sniffle. With finality, she took hold of Daehwi’s hand. With a wide grin, she proclaimed:

 

“Prince Lee Daehwi of the Kang Kingdom, you have my blessing to take my brother’s hand in marriage.” The two exchanged joyful expressions, and soon their conversation had nothing but wedding bells.

 

Eunji couldn’t suppress the strange suspicion itching in the back of her mind.

 

* * *

 

Orange rays of sunlight grazed the water, a signal of the sun’s descent beneath the horizon. Light around the edges of clouds burned a vivid gold color, creating a halo around the tufts of periwinkle in the sky. Behind them, swaths of pink and lilac receded into deeper blue and purple tones. 

 

Seongwoo had seen sunset from the main deck more times than he could ever know. He had yet to tire of it. It never failed to awe him the beauty that so effortlessly exists. It is not bothered by the whims of people, nor is it moved by politics. Sunsets merely happen. They stun without so much as a word. They take a person’s breath away with a glance.

 

The captain leaned against the railing on the main deck. With evening coming around the corner, shifts were changing for deckhands. Soon, the deck would quiet, and the stars would emerge. The day had been exhausting, but Seongwoo still held onto the hope that he’d be awake enough to stargaze. It was one of the few things that gave him comfort amidst the madness.

 

“It’s beautiful,” A voice beside Seongwoo chimed. The captain turned to regard the person who’d joined him: Ha Sungwoon.

 

Seongwoo had finally faced the man over lunch earlier, and things had gone much better than expected. Ong had had no idea what to expect; Sungwoon had been quiet on the entire journey to the coast and after boarding the Vengeance. The captain figured the man was interested in the wellbeing of his husband and nothing else. He’d extended the lunch invitation on a whim, and upon seeing its acceptance, he felt a glimmer of hope. Seongwoo thought: Sungwoon forgiving him is a start. If he could turn the heart of one, get them to see things from his perspective, perhaps others could follow.

 

“It is,” Seongwoo replied. He quirked an eyebrow, something miscellaneous popping up in his head, “Have you ever seen the ocean?”

 

Sungwoon shook his head, “No. Haven’t ridden a big ship like this, either. This is more luxurious than anything I’d ever imagined. You’ve kept a beautiful ship.” The man spoke flatly - as he had almost the entirety of lunch. He seemed almost excessively insistent on being neutral, not betraying any emotion. The mask of neutrality almost vexed Seongwoo more than any sort of malice. His consolation was that the man had yet to have a fit directed at him.

 

“Thank you. It’s not me, of course. It’s myself and the crew. Everyone works hard.”

 

“Under your leadership.”

 

“I am one part of this entire great composition.”

 

“You’re rather young to be a Captain, are you not? Forgive me if the inquiry sounds disingenuous to your intellect.”

 

“No, it is a fair thing to ask. Must be rather curious to see someone younger than you command a galleon,” Seongwoo bit his lip nervously. He hesitated for a moment, appraising his relationship with the other. His initial reaction was to distrust the man; after all, why ought Ha Sungwoon know about his life? His past? Then, he reflected upon the man’s situation. Sungwoon had spent a good portion of his life being jerked around by the will of others. He’d sacrificed a life of autonomy to be with the man he loved - under the guise of servitude. Clearly, the man was in no position to do anything of value with a snippet of his life. The captain almost felt guilty for even questioning something so simple. Sungwoon merely was curious, perhaps he even cared about the man to whom he spoke. 

 

“This vessel was my birthright, passed down to me from my father,” The captain said.

 

“I see,” Sungwoon’s tone betrayed his significant spike in interest. “You came from wealth?” The concubine shut his lips hastily, “Apologies, that came out rather uncouth.”

 

Seongwoo shrugged, “No need to apologize. I can’t blame you for wondering about the man who abducted your husband and stuck you on a boat.”

 

“The funniest things do happen these days, don’t they,” Sungwoon said. Generally, the man seemed to take everything in stride with incredible nerve. Ong wasn’t sure whether it was his nature or a coping mechanism. Either way, it relieved him to see the other muster a few quips.

 

“We weren’t the most wealthy- my family, I mean. We had plenty, for certain, but I wasn’t necessarily born and bred a courtesan. My father was the Commander of this ship. I was to follow in his footsteps as a naval officer, but… God’s plan intended otherwise.” Seongwoo grazed a finger along the worn wood of the railing. Even years after the death of his father, he thought about him and the ship. He couldn’t help but wonder: did Papa stand in this exact spot? Had he, too, watched the sunset, leaning over the railing of the foredeck?

 

“I see,” Was all Sungwoon said.

 

“I was intended to inherit the ship upon marriage - it was to be a wedding gift. However, circumstances changed. The moment I stepped foot onto the deck, my training began. Captain was handed off to me shortly after I reached the age of manhood- well, if you could even qualify late adolescence as manhood.”

 

Sungwoon’s eyes widened, “How in the hell-? Sorry, I simply labor to picture a child being captain of a pirate ship.”

 

“It wasn’t easy at first. Many shared your sentiments, but… After a few executed operations and a lot of fights, I gained enough respect to handle them. It wasn’t as if I was without help. I had mentors and people to rely on.”

 

“You had to grow up quickly,” Sungwoon commented with a small frown.

 

“Everyone on this ship had to,” Seongwoo said, melancholy seeping into his voice. He felt uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation and quickly brushed it off. “Of course, we fared well enough given the situation. We are not victims, we are survivors.”

 

“I can see why your crew speaks so highly of you.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You have a way with words and a good heart.”

 

Seongwoo turned to look at Sungwoon. The man’s gaze remained on the horizon, but his face showed no sign of facetiousness or dubious intent. He thought it boggling that anyone from Castle Jeon would give him such praise after what he’d done.

 

“What makes you so sure I’m not a bastard?” Seongwoo couldn’t help asking.

 

That statement managed to rouse Sungwoon’s attention enough to elicit a glance. The concubine turned his head, visibly scrutinizing the captain from behind his spectacles. He spoke when he returned his gaze to the sea beyond.

 

“Your mercy,” Sungwoon replied flatly.

 

“Mercy?”

 

“It is true that I know nothing of your motivations or mission on this ship. I have no idea the person you were before General Park dumped you onto Eunji in the servant’s quarters. What I do know is this: you went to monumental effort to extract men who I am sure you could have more easily killed.”

 

“How do you know I am not using them for something? Some leverage? Or a ransom?”

 

“Because you brought us along. You may be exceptionally deceptive, but I know you would never bring us into dire harm’s way- at least, not him. He is not a bargaining chip for you to toss around, and you know that. You’d have never brought him onto this ship otherwise. Like it or not, you’ve shown mercy.”

 

Seongwoo looked down, pursing his lips in displeasure. He disliked being read so easily (nor was he used to it). His actions were, in fact, telling. More telling than he liked. He started to wonder if anyone else had made deductions based on the lot he’d brought along. The captain prayed that nobody else had made such contemplations. He needed his crew’s confidence and the Council’s.

 

“So I have,” Seongwoo conceded.

 

“Perhaps the rest of your crew does not share my feelings, but… I am incredibly grateful for it,” Sungwoon said, quieter. “My husband is alive. I am safe. We are in the same place. It is a small blessing, but one I will take.”

 

“I assure you, he is more than alive. He is safe. Sheltered. Fed and given drink. I know this does not comfort you greatly to hear, but-”

 

“When will I be able to see him?” Sungwoon interjected, glancing sideways at the captain. A hint of desperation clouded his tone.

 

Seongwoo pressed his lips together; he wasn’t sure how to answer it, “I’m not sure yet, but… I think soon.”

 

“You’re not sure?” Sungwoon frowned, “You’re the captain, aren’t you. Is it not your decision?”

 

“I am a captain, not a King,” Ong laughed wryly. “Unfortunately, things are not so simple. I have people to report to, just like those courtesans in Castle Jeon.” He pursed his lips with displeasure. 

 

“To whom do you report?” Sungwoon asked.

 

“That is none of your concern. Just know this: I will do all I can to keep you lot safe. All of you. Even that bastard General,” Seongwoo muttered.

 

That elicited a chuckle from the older man. Something about hearing the sound sent giddy tickles up Seongwoo’s spine. It’d been awhile since he’d heard the man laugh. He and Sungwoon had found themselves in a most peculiar limbo. While Seongwoo’s betrayal of the Kang Kingdom had obviously put a wall between them, more strange was the fact that they remained amicable. The captain had defied all Sungwoon had known; yet, the concubine seemed rather dismissive of it all. Seongwoo wondered why, but he dare not ask - lest he destroy their delicate semblance of friendship.

 

Sungwoon’s laugh faded, and he frowned again, “Keep us safe? Do I have reason to believe we will be unsafe?”

 

“Apologies for how this may sound, but… You lot are not well liked, to say the least. Clearly, you have already managed to establish geniality among the crew. They understand concubines as a different being, some victim of circumstance.”

 

“If only they knew I’d done this to myself willingly,” Sungwoon said. Ong’s lips upturned ever so slightly - a welcome dose of cheer, though slight.

 

“Yes, well, unfortunately, your husband and the others are not so fortunate. They were actively a part of a system that had, once upon a time, done awful things to us. All of us.”

 

“Everyone on this ship has truly been wronged by the Kang Empire?” Sungwoon turned around, looking across the deck. “I have heard the things people have said in the lower decks, but I scarcely believe it. They’re a hyperbolic lot, your crew.”

 

“People on ships have few reservations about expressing themselves. I believe you will find yourself among that ‘hyperbolic’ lot soon enough,” Seongwoo grinned slightly. Sungwoon suppressed a smile of his own. “However exaggerated they may be, they speak truth. If someone is on this ship, it is because they have no other choice.”

 

“I see…” Sungwoon responded. A quiet ensued between them, but, much to Seongwoo’s relief, it wasn’t extremely uncomfortable. The soft crashing of the waves filled the space nicely. Fading sunlight danced across the top of the water, and where it couldn’t reach, inky blackness prevailed.

 

The two remained in pensive silence for an indiscernible amount of time. Both were content to let the ebb and flow of the ocean fill space and time. When he felt ready, Sungwoon spoke again; this time, he posed a question to the captain.

 

“What are you going to do?” Sungwoon asked.

 

The words were simple; the answer: not. Seongwoo’s heart knotted in his chest, unsure as to how he ought to respond. Though Sungwoon had asked something rather vague, Ong had an inkling he knew to what the man referred to.

 

Seongwoo frowned, leaning over the railing and answering, “Move forward.” Simple words to answer a simple inquiry. Simple, yet weighed down with half a year of memories and implication.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sungwoon replied.

 

The captain groaned, “How I wish people would stop saying that to me.”

 

“Well, I am.”

 

“And so am I, and so is Taeseob,” Seongwoo’s voice pricked with bitter facetiousness, “It’s a very sorry situation.  _ Please _ , offer me more condolences. Surely, they will cheer me.”

 

Sungwoon crossed his arms. Without warning, he paced over to Seongwoo’s side, giving the captain a rough shove. Seongwoo’s eyes widened in shock as he wobbled backward. 

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The captain exclaimed, brows knit in frustration.

 

“Listen,  _ Captain _ ,” Sungwoon’s eyes bored into Ong’s resolutely, “I don’t give a rat’s ass about what you do or say to your crew, or your first mate, or your fucking priest for that matter. However, I’ve never taken your shit, and don’t think that just because you’ve got a big belt that I’m gonna start now. Understand?” The concubine punctuated the thought with another rough shove, sending the captain further back. Shock rendered Seongwoo unable to do anything other than gape at the outburst. Sungwoon looked at him fiercely, daring the captain to disagree.

 

When he came down from his initial surprise, Seongwoo’s lips turned up. He snorted, unable to help himself. The sudden laughter did nothing to assuage Sungwoon’s dwindling patience. Captain Seongwoo, on the other hand, enjoyed himself immensely. He doubled over with laughter at the ridiculous place he’d found himself in. Comprehension passed over the captain in that particular instance. He felt inclined to wonder: how did I get here? Even funnier than where his life had ended up was the fact that, despite the drastic changes that had occurred, Sungwoon remained himself. Still tough and stubborn as ever, the man truly stuck to his word. An immense appreciation came over Seongwoo, and, in his slight madness, he pulled the other into a close hug.

 

Sungwoon’s eyes widened, but he returned it despite the suddenness of it. Shaking his head and sighing, the older man muttered.

 

“You’re a fucking loony, you know that?”

 

“Sungwoon,” Seongwoo wheezes, trying to catch his breath. When he manages to do so, he finishes his thought, “Sungwoon, I am glad to have you here.” His laughter dies down, and the two remain embraced for a few more moments. 

 

Sungwoon gives the younger man a comforting squeeze, “I am not sure if I can say I am glad to be on this ship, but… God help me, I’ll be here for you. I’ll be here… We both will- wherever he is.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Seongwoo said as he let go of the other man. His face took on a more serious expression than before.

 

“For what of the many, many offenses you have committed?” Sungwoon replied, hoping his jest would rekindle some of the laughter in the other. It hadn’t worked, to the older man’s dismay. Seongwoo let out a hollow chuckle.

 

“For everything, Sungwoon.”

 

“Well, whatever it is you swept all of us away for… I hope it’s worth it,” Sungwoon spoke bluntly. The captain thought the sentiment more than fair. He’d uprooted peoples’ lives - even ruined some. Nightmares plagued the captain: visions of things not going as planned, of everyone dying before making it to where they wanted to go. It haunted him knowing that he’d put so much on his shoulders.

 

His superiors would likely tell him: “the hard part is over” - but, for some reason, Seongwoo couldn’t bring himself to believe that. Perhaps remnants of Castle Jeon paranoia remained in his system; or, perhaps he had become so accustomed to things being bad that the possibility of goodness frightened him. It mattered not. As he’d told Sungwoon: all he could do is move forward.

 

“It will be,” Seongwoo assured the other man. He started walking away, toward the foredeck, “I’ve many things to attend to, but thank you, Sungwoon.” He gave the concubine a warm smile.

 

Sungwoon returned it, quipping playfully, “You’re most welcome, Captain. If you need to be pushed around or told to fuck off any time soon, you know where to find me.”

 

Ong chuckled, replying, “I shall keep that enticing offer in mind!” With that, he waved goodbye. It felt strange, for things to be so easy with Sungwoon. With that oddness came a sense of relief.

 

Apparently, not even the tides of the ocean could move Ha Sungwoon’s resolve.

 

* * *

 

“ _ Knock. Knock. _ ”

 

A rapping on the door roused Jihoon from his state of haze. He’d dozed off, sitting against a wall. Pain stabbed his neck and shoulders, a punishment for falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position.

 

Since waking on the hellish stain in the sea they called a ship, time had smeared for him. He’d spent the majority of it heaving. The escape attempt had been a desperate one but never had he anticipated the futility of it. Upon being apprehended, little changed but the scenery.

 

Nausea still suffocated him; the wood structure around him maintained its perpetual groaning. He’d been moved to a smaller room - something more akin to a closet, he supposed. He’d been chained to the wall, but his hands were free. Jihoon wished he could glean more positivity from his unchained hands. Unfortunately, he knew another escape attempt would be fruitless. The only aid his hands could give would be in ending his life.

 

The General had contemplated it already. There was little else to do in the rotting wood box he’d been kept it. Only the flickering light of a lantern and a stack of hay were present to keep him company. Jihoon wondered: how long would it take them to notice the smell? Though dark thoughts plagued him, he reminded himself of what was important. Daniel was somewhere in there, alive. Guanlin was somewhere, and the uncertainty of his mortality tormented Jihoon. The General had not an inkling of knowledge as to the boy’s whereabouts or well-being. He swore to himself, if he were to find out that the boy’d been harmed, he would ignite every powder keg in the stores.

 

“ _ Creaaak _ .”

 

The door to Jihoon’s brig opened. Had he not spent the past few days an absolute mess, he would have attempted a plan. A thought stubbornly stuck in his mind that he could still, somehow, escape the place. However, ill sensations and darkness obscured that minuscule optimism. 

 

“You’re conscious,” The voice said. It was rather cool, almost serene. Jihoon nearly felt soothed, but the circumstances prohibited it.

 

Slowly, Jihoon sat upright to face his new guest. In the dim light, he could scarcely discern meaningful facial features. The man was slender and had blond hair. His eyes were dark and the expression behind them indiscernible. His hands were full - he seemed to carry a basket or crate. 

 

Suddenly, memory jogged in the General’s mind. Scrutinizing the person again, he realized: this person had apprehended them on the deck earlier. Jihoon hardly remembered much after that. He’d been dragged back to where he’d been held before. Shortly after, he’d been dragged to his current residence.

 

Dread swelled in Jihoon’s chest. He did not trust the man in the least. He wondered what he was to face. Beatings? Torture? The General tensed, shrinking back slightly as the man stepped into the room. 

 

“Can you speak?” The blond asked. Jihoon merely looked at the man. He gathered all of his strength in an attempt to look as ferocious as possible. If only his eyes could communicate his dissent, so be it.

 

The blond rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by the prisoner’s scowl, “Listen, I’ve got something for you, but you will only get it if you cooperate. Understand?” 

 

Jihoon still refused to respond. His eyes darted to the woven basket in his hands. His throat started to close up, thinking of the possibilities. There were myriad things it could be: poison, some sort of animal, or even Daniel’s head. As soon as his imagination had conjured the latter image, panic seized Jihoon. He looked at the basket with wide eyes, and his chest started heaving once more. Jihoon fought for each breath he took, eyes boring into the woven palm.

 

“Do you not even wish to see what I’ve brought,” The blond said in a singsong voice. It did nothing to assuage Jihoon’s rising paranoia. The pirate quirked an eyebrow at the General, no doubt noticing the odd behavior. He crossed the room and took Jihoon’s side, making the General’s distress triple. His pupils sprinted from the man’s cool expressionless eyes to the basket and back again. 

 

Slowly, the blond placed the basket on the ground, sliding it closer to Jihoon. Closer and closer. With each little bit of distance the basket covered, Jihoon winced. He could hardly differentiate physical pain from mental duress by that point. Whether he could pinpoint his pain hardly felt consequential. All he could think of was the image torturing him, ceaselessly floating in his head: Daniel’s head, pale and slightly bloated, eyes glassy, crusty blood staining his neck, bone jutting out. 

 

Jihoon gagged.

 

“Shit,” The blond hissed. He made a reach for the pot near the chains, sliding it over carefully. “Here, if you’re going to be sick-”

 

“No,” Jihoon muttered. His gaze couldn’t be wrested from the woven basket. Though his logical mind knew he was acting ridiculous, despair had long prior taken the reigns. 

 

“Wh-”

 

“No, no, no,” Jihoon’s eyes widened, and he scooted away clumsily. A lump of nerves lodged in his throat. He shook his head frantically. “No, no.”

 

“What are you on about?” The blond’s face knit with confusion. He merely followed the other, basket in tow. “You are in no danger.”

 

“I can’t see it,” Jihoon muttered, “I can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” Suddenly an even more dreadful possibility emerged in his mind. He cursed his ego for conjuring such terrifying images. He wondered: what if it was Guanlin?

 

The vision of Daniel’s head changed, swapped out for one belonging to a boy much younger. Jihoon pictured it all too well. The boy’s skin would look like alabaster and his lips would be purple. Death would sap the boy’s eyes of their twinkling light - a quality Jihoon adored.  Instead, they would be soulless, cloudy orbs, and it would be all Jihoon’s fault. 

 

All because he’d pushed away the ones he loved the most.

 

All because he couldn’t reach Daniel on time.

 

“No! No, no, no! No,” Jihoon backed away, his body shuddering. Tears blurred his vision, and soon he could no longer tell man from basket or floor. “No! No- no, no-”

 

“Wh- You don’t even want to see? I- It’s-”

 

“No! No, don’t! I can’t!” Jihoon pleaded, “I can’t- I can’t-” 

 

“ _ Clink _ .”

 

Jihoon reached the end of his chain. He tried pulling away, but he couldn’t. The chain had no slack left to give. He’d cornered himself.

 

Anxiety drowned the prisoner. He gasped and sputtered in hopes of taking a breath; the man was liable to gag or pass out at the rate with which he panicked. The edges of Jihoon’s vision darkened, and all the man could think to do was to squeeze his eyes shut. The blond loomed over the prisoner, scooting closer with the basket in hand. Jihoon awaited some sort of finality, a miserable end befitting his loathsome existence.

 

The blond lifted the basket and said, “You can and you will eat this food!”

 

Food?

  
All of Jihoon’s thoughts - his frenzied emotions, his panic - came to a reeling halt. He blinked confusedly. Hesitantly, he glanced down at the basket in the man’s hands. No bloody, bulging head greeted his open eyes. There wasn’t a set of glassy eyes staring back at him, nor did the strong smell of death drift into his nose.

 

Inside the basket sat a small sea biscuit, some strips of salted beef, and a few bottles.

 

Relief consumed Jihoon, and his body went slack. He suddenly felt incredibly tired from the entire fit, but even more than exhaustion, he felt shame. For him to be reduced to such a state spoke to the amount of stress his body had been under. He felt confident that, in other circumstances, he would have remained completely of his wits. Unfortunately, his worst fears had all been mixed together in a malignant stewpot and served to him in a ship of all places. Combined with the constant purging of his body’s much needed fluids, it made sense to him that he’d react so strongly.

 

“Are you calm now?” The blond asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Jihoon’s lips pressed into a thin line. The question posed had been a very relative one. The prisoner had seldom found himself further from fine than he’d just been. Still, he knew he’d endure. He had endured worse things, certainly. A man with a basket of food would not be his demise.

 

“I told you, if you want this, you must cooperate. At least say something- something other than complete lunacy, that is.”

 

Jihoon resented his dismay being written off as ‘lunacy’ but opted not to touch on the point, “What do you want?” He asked. His throat throbbed with pain from all the retching he’d done. He winced after speaking.

 

The blond sighed, clearly vexed, “You need to eat.” He said flatly.

 

“I won’t keep it down,” Jihoon replied hoarsely.

 

Rolling his eyes, the pirate placed the basket on the floor next to them. He withdrew a small bottle, splashing its contents onto the tip of his fingers. The sharp scent of peppermint drifted into Jihoon’s nose. It woke the prisoner up immediately, stinging his nose pleasantly. The prisoner visibly perked up, blinking some of the remnant tears out of his eyes. 

 

“Don’t move,” The pirate instructed. Before Jihoon could react, the man swiped his wet fingers behind the General’s ears.

 

“Wh- What’re you doing?” Jihoon asked with wide eyes. The peppermint did wonders, clearing his hazy mind more and more by the second. The pirate put off answering until he wiped the peppermint substance on Jihoon’s wrists as well.

 

“It’s oil of peppermint,” The blond informed the other.

 

Jihoon’s brows knit in confusion, and he looked down at his - now oiled - wrist.

 

“You are not the only person with this affliction on this ship,” The pirate elaborated. “Many share your distaste for life at sea. Peppermint helps. I do not trust you with a bottle, but… I can make arrangements to assure you’re supplied. Somehow.”

 

“Oh,” Jihoon muttered. He could think of no other response. A “thank you” lied at the tip of his tongue, but he felt disinclined to let it out. The man had captured him, after all. No small kindness would remedy that.

 

“Here,” The pirate extended another bottle, “Ginger tea. It will help, too. I- I suppose calling it tea is generous. It is more like ginger infused water… Or… Water with ginger in it- I digress.” The man shook his head sheepishly, “With proper food and time, you ought to get your sea legs shortly. So eat.” He spoke with sincerity; it took Jihoon off guard.

 

“Why… Would you help me?” Jihoon asked, his voice still hoarse. He eyed the food suspiciously. Had he not been such an easy target already, he would’ve suspected poison. “Why not just kill me?”

 

“An excellent question; however, you are not entitled to an explanation. Trust me, had it been the decision of someone else you would not be gifted such luxuries.”

 

“Lux- what!?” The exclamation came out with such veracity that Jihoon winced in pain from the exertion.

 

The blond chuckled, “I’m sure to you this is a shitstain, but you’ve been given your own cell. You’re getting fed, and you’ve got use of your hands. I cannot think of any other prisoners who’d been given such mercies.”

 

“The others, do they have their own containment as well?”

 

“I am under no obligation to disclose that.”

 

Jihoon crossed his arms resolutely. Despite his disadvantage, he sat upright determinedly. Looking the other in the eye, he spoke with as much insistence as he could gather.

 

“If you will not tell me any information, then I will not eat. You must have some reason for keeping me alive. It’ll all be for naught if you refuse to yield.”

 

The blond opened his mouth to respond, but he shut it. He bit his lip, obviously contemplating the other’s words. When he’d finished thinking, he groaned - as if the conclusion he’d come to was an unsatisfactory one. With the slightest pout across his lips, the blond answered.

 

“Fine. I will tell you one piece of information. One.”

 

Jihoon leaned forward with interest. He eyed the blond eagerly.

 

“My name is Taeseob,” The blond - Taeseob - answered. “And I am the second in command on this ship. Only exceeded by the Captain and in some cases the quartermaster- that’s all technical jargon you needn’t worry about. Now, eat.”

 

“Wait- I need one more question answered before I will eat.”

 

“This is not a negotiation,” Taeseob said through gritted teeth. His patience had obviously started dwindling.

 

Jihoon considered pushing the issue, but he let it rest in the meanwhile. He found himself at an immense disadvantage, and agitating the first mate would likely invite more grief than anything else. He conceded. 

 

Defeated, Jihoon pulled the basket close to him. He took a bite out of the sea biscuit dejectedly. It crunched loudly and tasted of nothing. Chewing, he noticed the first mate still watching him closely.

 

“You can go now,” Jihoon dismissed the other with a wave, “I assure you I will eat this. And drink this ginger concoction.”

 

“I am no fool. I will not leave you unattended with all of this. Keep eating. I leave when you finish. All of it.”

 

Jihoon glared at the man, irritation needling his chest, “Why does it matter how much I eat- or if I eat at all?!” Pain scratched his throat, but he didn’t care.

 

“Captain’s orders,” Taeseob said with a shrug. He sat back, crossing his legs; his eyes trained on the prisoner, obviously intent on keeping a close watch on him.

 

Jihoon glanced at the other bottles in the basket. One had been a ginger concoction to help alleviate his sickness, the other an oil aimed to do the same thing. He nodded toward them.

 

“And that? That’s the Captain’s orders, too?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“But… Why?” Jihoon murmured.

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why would he care if I… If I felt sick?”

 

“Hell if I know,” Taeseob grunted, “Probably didn’t want to send people here nonstop to empty your pot. You’d wither away quickly if you couldn’t keep water down, anyways.”

 

“So he - the Captain - really wants me alive?”

 

“Alive, yes. But he didn’t make any orders prohibiting me from beating the piss out of you,” The first mate growled, clearly at his wit’s end with the questions. “Finish eating. In silence.”

 

Jihoon nearly responded, but he shut his mouth. He continued his meal quietly, trying to ignore the weight of Taeseob’s gaze on his shoulder. In spite of the first mate’s words, Jihoon couldn’t help but wonder about the mysterious Captain. What did they look like? Were they old? Young? Why did they insist on keeping him alive? 

 

In spite of Taeseob’s words, Jihoon couldn’t turn away the hunch that had risen in his mind. He’d dealt with many a military superior and guarded prisoners. He knew how people operated in situations of hostage keeping and politics. The gesture of sending peppermint oil and tea - of giving Jihoon “luxurious” accommodations as Taeseob had put it - was not characteristic. Prisoners were provided with the bare minimum until they were either dead or on the brink of death. Hostages were the lucky ones; they could occasionally dodge harm if they were worth enough. They certainly were not given private rooms and delivered food by the second in command.

 

Most pressing of all was the question:

 

Why is the Captain being kind?

 

* * *

 

The sun shone down unrelentingly across the main deck of the Onyx Vengeance. Although it had scarcely lifted above the horizon, those beneath its light already felt its influence. It assured all aboard of its presence as if to make up for lost time over the cooler months. Even with heat radiating fiercely down onto the main deck, Captain Ong Seongwoo remained chipper. The previous night, he’d had an epiphany of sorts. He knew how to reprimand his lieutenants for their negligence - along with creating a solution of sorts of the Kang prisoners. Though far from perfect, the decision he’d come to soothed his conscience most. Seongwoo had called upon the three lieutenants shortly after waking up in the morn, and with the sun just rising, it gave them an ideal timeframe to begin their punishment.

 

Anxiously, Seongwoo threw open one of the doors on the main deck. He descended the stairs quickly to arrive at the gundeck. The broad space spanned almost the entire length of the hull. Even on a lower level, sunlight poured in between the cannons and their housings. Across the shaded deck, the three lieutenants huddled nervously around a cannon. 

 

Seongwoo rolled his eyes as he approached them. Worried chatter could be heard a few paces away. Cocking an eyebrow, the captain greeted his officers.

 

“Good morning, Lieutenants Yua, Miko, Moko,” He nodded politely.

 

“Captain Ong!” The three said in unison, bowing courteously. Upon rising, Seongwoo could make out their thinly concealed fretfulness. Each stood upright, stiff as a board. The captain feared a stiff wind or sudden bump would cause the three to topple over.

 

“At ease,” Seongwoo said, lifting a hand. “You understand why I’ve asked after you this morning?”

 

Lieutenant Yua - undeclared leader of the trio - nodded, “We are to discuss the consequences for our abhorrent negligence with the Kang prisoners.” A drop of sweat ran down the side of her face, and the captain wasn’t sure if it was due to the heat or dread. Though he relied on harboring a certain degree of intimidation, it still awed him to know that people legitimately revered him.

 

“Correct. Walk with me,” Seongwoo cooly instructed. The three women obliged, following their captain like ducklings as he began striding across the gun deck. Activity bustled around the crew. Powder monkeys scurried at the tail of gunners in wait of tasks. Carpenters lugged lumber and tools up and down the steps. Children dashed about carelessly, nearly earning a few smacks from the passing cooks who were heading down to the oven. “There is much work to be done, as you can see.”

 

“Y-yes sir,” The Yua said, eyeing him anxiously.

 

“I am certain that some of our wonderful crew would appreciate help in their duties- menial things, of course. Perhaps… Sweeping the deck or baking bread. What do you think?” Seongwoo stopped without warning, causing Yua (who’d been in front of the others) to halt abruptly. The other two lieutenants bumped into her as a result. Yua nearly teetered forward and bumped into her superior. Arms flailing about, she managed to catch herself before Seongwoo turned around to address them. The three officers snapped into place in seconds.

 

“I concur, sir,” Yua chirped in response, her stature stick straight. The others nodded in agreement. 

 

“I am glad to hear that, Lieutenant,” Seongwoo said. He picked up his leisurely walking pace once more, not bothering to check for followers. A few members of the crew gave salutations to their captain as the three continued their morning stroll into the lower decks. “Now, it is my personal belief that any able-bodied person - well, save for the youngest of children - ought to make themselves useful while on this ship. It sounds sensible, does it not?”

 

“Very, sir!” Miko piped up from the back of the line. Their surroundings became dimmer and dimmer as they entered the intestines of the Vengeance. The group of four descended another set of steps and entered one of the many narrow corridors that ran through the vessel like veins. Only lamps lit the creaky hall as they traversed.

 

“Excellent to hear, Moko,” Seongwoo commented. “Yes, if we are feeding people and keeping them sheltered, they ought to contribute- after all, that is how this beautiful ship remains afloat. We share work just as we do food, water, shelter- some would even say love. Like a family, of course.”

 

“With some incest,” Miko blurted out. That earned her an elbow in the chest from Yua in front of her. Seongwoo chose to ignore the statement.

 

“Relations between crew aside, we work together. We break bread… It is something we depend upon for survival,” Suddenly, Seongwoo turned on his heel. Once again, the three lieutenants froze up in panic. They looked at their captain with wide eyes, awaiting their fates. Seongwoo tried to suppress a laugh at their palpable dismay. As amusing as he found it, he did not want to dally any longer. 

 

“As of late, we have taken on some extra passengers,” The captain said. His voice dropped its light tone, taking a more serious turn. In truth, he himself felt massive doubt. He watched carefully to gauge the reactions of his trusted officers.

 

“The- The Kang prisoners, yes?” Yua ventured an inquiry. Seongwoo nodded in confirmation.

 

“Precisely. While they were rather bleary-eyed upon boarding the Vengeance, the poison has departed their systems by now. They are taking precious time and resources, yet they’re not tasked with contributing in any way,” Seongwoo’s heart shuddered with nerves, but he stubbornly kept his outer appearance steady. “As punishment for letting these men escape their confinement - under your watch - I am going to assign you a task.”

 

“Wh… What kind of task, Captain?” Yua asked.

 

“You - all of you - will personally oversee the training of these men. They’re dead weight now, but they’ve all got working arms and legs. You’re going to teach them how to swim, how to sweep, where to shit and what they’re allowed to eat.” 

 

The lieutenants merely nodded, mouths agape in shock or surprise. None of them seemed particularly galled which relieved Seongwoo. More confidence filled him, and he continued his lecture, even crossing his arms to look more resolute.

 

“I want you to impress upon them the importance of respect for this place. Do not hesitate to remind them that we will not tolerate any more pathetic attempts at escape. We’ve not much time before docking, and I need solid workers to be made of them. You know every single functioning body will be all the more helpful when the time comes. Do you understand me?”

 

“Yes sir!” The three said again, in unison. 

 

A weight lifted from Seongwoo’s shoulders. He nearly dropped to the floor, grateful that the three hadn’t said a word about it. Upon running it by Taeseob, he’d felt wary - the first mate had expressed immense dissatisfaction. The quartermaster hadn’t even dignified the response with words, merely grunting and giving a quirk of the eyebrow. Lieutenants Yua, Moko, and Miko were the last high ranking officers whose judgment he feared. Whether out of respect, fear, or agreement, the three responded tamely. Ong felt grateful for that.

 

Yua, Miko, and Moko exchanged glances. The other two nodded emphatically to Yua before the leader spoke up once more.

 

“S-sir, may I have a question- I mean, may I pose a question? Sir,” She said, pressing her lips together in anticipation of some outburst.

 

“I welcome inquiries,” Seongwoo replied.

 

“Y-yes, well, sir. We are more than ready to take this task on. However, they eluded us previously. If they are to be out in the open, how will we keep them from making a mad dash.”

 

The captain merely shrugged, “Rope?” Yua opened her mouth and raised her hand to reply, but Seongwoo cut her off with a dismissive wave. He leaned against the wooden wall of the corridor and gave a more elaborative answer. “Recall that this is your punishment. It is not my duty to spoon feed you answers. I know you three are brilliant, you must merely figure it out.”

 

“Um, yes, sir,” Yua frowned, her pupils dropping to the floor. 

 

Seongwoo, fairly satisfied with how things had gone over, got off the wall and began stepping in the direction they’d come from.

 

“W-wait, sir!” Yua asked after him, starting to walk herself. “When ought we start the training.”

 

Seongwoo stopped, turning on his heel; bluntly, he said, “Oh, I expect you three to start now.”

 

“Wh- Now?” Yua’s eyes widened in horror, as did Miko and Moko’s.

 

“Yes, now. As a matter of fact, I-” Seongwoo dug a hand in the pocket of his navy jacket. He withdrew a worn silver pocket watch, squinting at the timepiece. “-expect you to have prisoners in tow on the main deck in a quarter hour.”

 

“A quarter- what?”

 

“Well, not the most troublesome prisoner, but, the other two. The General and Advisor.”

 

“In a quarter hour?” Yua’s eyes blew open in disbelief. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“But- Sir, we must- must go to their cells, restrain them and-”

 

“Don’t worry,” Seongwoo said, enjoying their panic a tad too much. “I’ve already brought you to the General’s holding room,” He pointed to the door next to them in the hall. The three jolted away from the door as if it’d been set aflame.

 

Seongwoo left the three there, resuming his return walk to the foredeck.

 

“Have fun!” The captain chirped after the three. He heard fussed muttering behind him until ascending the steps toward the upper decks.


	4. Learning to Swim

_“Bang! Bang! Bang!”_

 

Former General Park Jihoon’s face scrunched in displeasure. All too soon, a thunderous knock on the door interrupted his rest. The only solace he took in the awakening was the fact that he’d gotten little rest despite many hours spent unconscious. Jihoon had learned to count his blessings aboard the creaky wooden prison they called The Onyx Vengeance. His limbs were still in working order. The sea biscuits they gave him had yet to show signs of bug infestation.  Jisung remained alive and well. Though few, his mind traced and retraced the meager generosities God had extended to him during his trial.

 

_“Bang! Bang-”_

 

“You’ve half a minute to make yourself decent ‘fore I barge in there!” A high pitched voice chirped from outside the door to his closet-turned-cell.

 

With a groan, Jihoon sat upright and rubbed his eyes. Her words were more a final warning than anything else. As if the woman cared if he was actually “decent”. The thin walls on the Vengeance had quickly made themselves known to the General. He’d quickly realized that the groaning he heard through his walls wasn’t always from the wood. He imagined anyone who’d spent a long time on a pirate ship had little reservation in regards to etiquette or decorum. Luckily, his time in the barracks had prepared him for such circumstances.

 

“But I’ve yet to make myself beautiful,” Jihoon snarked as the Lieutenant in charge of him opened the door. Still bound by the neck, he sat cross-legged against the back wall of his holding place.

 

“You needn’t worry about that,” The Lieutenant said. Was her name Mika? Mako? Jihoon could hardly recall. “You’re the belle of the ball- far as prisoners are concerned, anyways?” She nodded toward him, “Come on now, up with you. We’ve been at this for three days now. Surely you’re a fast enough learner that by day four you ought to know the routine.”

 

“Yes _ma’am_ ,” Jihoon replied. As per procedure for the previous days, he put his hands up. Slowly, the prisoner rose to his feet, chain clinking as it dangled from his neck. “And what riveting task have we to complete today? Deck sweeping? Sweeping the foredeck? The shitdeck- or, wait, let me guess… The _main_ deck.”

 

For some God forsaken reason, he and Jisung had been yanked out of their cells a few days prior. The Lieutenants who’d plucked them out of confinement rambled about ‘Captain’s orders’, and they never elaborated. While he loathed serving his captor and enemy, part of Jihoon felt relieved. He could only remain cooped up for so much longer before going absolutely loony.

 

Jihoon had hardly slept since being caught. When he had, nightmares ravaged his rest, often causing him to jolt awake, shivering and crying. On more occasions than one, he’d dreamt of Guanlin or Daniel. Though he hadn’t seen Daniel since their escape attempt, Jihoon had an inkling that the man remained alive somewhere. Guanlin, however, he felt uncertain about. He supposed that gnawed on him more than anything else. It felt silly to reflect upon, but he worried more for the boy than the entire nation that had been left behind.

 

Being a grunt on a ship hardly qualified as riveting or fulfilling. Still, being kept busy proved more favorable than he’d anticipated. Ship work was hard and tiring. It gave the General something to fixate on while leaving him exhausted enough to pass out upon returning to his cell. It also assured that his body wouldn’t wear away or lock up from too long in one room. He figured that any semblance of fat that he had on his bones would disappear quickly.

 

“Actually,” The Lieutenant answered, ignoring the General’s sass, “We’re going to change the pace a bit today.” An almost sadistic grin crossed her lips, and that filled Jihoon with worry.

 

* * *

 

“Morning Jihoon,” Jisung said tiredly.

 

“Morning,” Jihoon replied.

 

Lieutenants Moko and Miko each escorted a prisoner out toward the main deck. In front of them, Lieutenant Yua led the throng.

 

Jihoon wriggled in his uncomfortable binds awkwardly. He felt more like a dog than a human; of course, he figured that was how the people of the ship saw him. Rope wrapped around his torso, crossing over itself on his chest in a figure eight of sorts. The ex-general wasn’t well versed in knots and couldn’t make sense of it. Whatever spell they’d cast with their rope, no matter how he moved, it remained almost constricting around his chest. From it, the length remaining toward his back was used by the Lieutenants as a lead.

 

Jisung, while bound the entirely same way, appeared calmer. He and Jihoon had been given the privilege to speak during their time working, but they learned little of value from one another. Their exchanges often contained the same thoughts: they didn’t know anything, they were baffled, they had no idea where anyone was, and neither had any idea what was going on. Though he didn’t speak it, Jihoon could sense that the older man bore severe weight on his shoulders. The former advisor to the King either chose deliberately not to fight or lacked the will. Jisung seemed to have lost all hope. He challenged nothing. Seeing the other’s gloomy visage depressed Jihoon. Jisung nearly wasn’t himself.

 

“You sleep well?” Jisung asked flatly.

 

“Splendidly with our luxury accommodations,” Jihoon replied.

 

“Luxurious indeed. I only found one bug in my hair this morning. Was quite thrilled.” At the very least, Yoon Jisung’s dry facetiousness remained intact. It served as a glimmer of hope for Jihoon.

 

“That’s enough you two,” Yua chided from the front of the line. “We’re about to reach the main deck. Like I told you before: keep your heads down and your mouths shut.”

 

“Keep my head shut and my mouth down? Of course,” Jihoon snarked. That earned him a smack on the back of the head from his personal escort.

 

Just as Yua had said, the group reached the top arrived on the main deck with a few more steps up the staircase. Jihoon’s eyes stung, and he squinted reflexively at the sunlight beaming across the deck. Though it was early, its heat felt intense. It struck the General that he didn’t know what day it was. His sense of time had been distorted, and he wondered: how much of spring had gone by? Was summer close already?

 

The prisoner bowed his head, but he glanced around, taking in as much as possible. Just as the group had emerged, activity seemed to slow immensely on the deck. Deckhands and sweepers stalled their steps to get a look at the infamous Kang prisoners. Children pointed and gasped. Jihoon even caught one out of the corner of his eye cowering behind a barrel. Onlookers elbowed one another and exchanged heated whispers. A few even spat on the ground in their general direction. As they walked on, Jihoon caught a few of the wayward whispers.

 

“-re are the bastards.” “I say we skin ‘em.” “What’re they doing here? Alive?” “You know that fella?” “That one’s real pretty… We could have some fun with him.” “I says let ‘em work. About time they paid us back.” “The fucker over there’s a killer. He’s a killer!” “Disgusting-” “-should be hanging off of the mast, they should.” “Don’t look at him, he might see you!” “That’s it? I’m not impressed.” “Murderers.”

 

Hundreds of eyes leered at Jihoon. Their gazes burned into his back like sunlight focused through a glass. He felt every single one singe his soul, push him ever so slightly further down in the muck of despair he’d been plunged into. Park Jihoon was a man of duty; he always had been. Still, an ill sensation always lingered in the depths of his heart. Part of him knew that the crew was right to be antagonistic toward him. He tried to ignore that bit, shoving it down as far as his compromised state would allow him. He reminded himself that these people had captured them and dragged them God knew how far from home. They were the enemy, not him.

 

“Come on,” A light kick at the backside reminded Jihoon that he needed to keep moving. Jihoon stumbled, nearly tripping over his feet.

 

“On you go,” Yua commanded. Jihoon blinked confusedly, bringing his head up.

 

The group had stopped at the fore side of the main deck. In front of them, held up by rope, hung a small dinghy. Jihoon’s eyes went wide, and despite his better sense, he looked down. Fear pulled his heart down into his gut when he saw the water below. Sunlight glistened off the surface, and waves crashed noisily against the dark hull of the ship. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The air entering his lungs nearly choked the ex-general.

 

“I said on you go,” Yua said again, her tone more clipped, “Not the water, you imbecile. The boat.”

 

Jisung’s face scrunched with bafflement,“Am I supposed to call that _thing_ a boat?”

 

“You can call it whatever you want,” Miko - his “escort” - chimed in. “It don’t matter- you’re getting on it.”

 

“Are we to die?” Jihoon’s panic forced the words out of his throat before he could stop them. “T-To be left at sea?”

 

Yua rolled her eyes and gave the two a nudge, “No, you imbeciles. Now, on! No more questions ‘til we get down there!”

 

Anxiety creeping up more by the second, Jihoon did as ordered. He had little choice; he knew the Lieutenants would not hesitate to draw their swords. Shakily, he took one step on the suspended dinghy. The worn structure immediately jolted at his weight, causing him to seize up in fear.

 

“Lord in heaven- do you not know how to step on a boat?!” Yua exclaimed impatiently. “Take a hold of the rope like this-” She grabbed his wrist, guiding it to one of the ropes holding the ship, “-and step on.”

 

Shakily, Jihoon followed the motion. He’d been so scared, he forgot his hands were unbound. It wasn’t as if he planned on doing anything with them. Any sort of attempt at escape would be met with swift retaliation. Though the prisoner conceded that he occasionally displayed a temper, he didn’t think himself stupid. The brief satisfaction of punching one of the bastards who’d captured him wasn’t worth what he’d need to pay. At least, not on a ship where there was nowhere to escape. On dry land, he figured he’d revisit the idea.

 

The dinghy wavered under his weight, and terror struck Jihoon like a bolt of lightning. He ducked down quickly, clinging to the boards of the boat for dear life. Jisung stepped in after in a similar state of disarray. The Lieutenants followed, stepping on quickly with ease. They appeared composed as ever despite the violent rocky of the dinghy. Only one remained onboard the main deck. Moko beckoned a deckboy to her side as Yua turned to her.

 

“Lower her down!” Yua barked the order to the two on deck. They both nodded, and the dinghy jolted with the sudden slackening of its holdings. Jihoon sunk down even further and clung more tightly to the side of the boat than before. “Gently, now!” Yua shouted up as the dinghy slowly sunk toward the shifting seas. “Can’t be having our guests rocked off,” She looked pointedly at Jihoon who’d been reduced to cowering on the floor of the boat. Jihoon resented the sentiment, but he hardly found himself in the position to retort.

 

Dread filled Jihoon as the sound of rushing water grew louder. His eyes betrayed him, leaving the boards of the dinghy to glance at the sea. It’d become much closer than prior, and upon looking up he realized how imposing the Vengeance looked. It cropped out of the sea like a black spire. Across the surface of the sea, it moved calmly, gracefully even; not unlike a King commanding the attention of his court.

 

The dinghy jumped upon contact with the water. It made Jihoon’s heart lurch. Though the large ship looked to be moving in slow motion, he knew the vessel’s pace was much quicker than it looked. Water crashed and lapped up at the sides of the boat. Some of the spray hit his face. In the threadbare dinghy, Jihoon could feel the movements of water just beneath the boards.

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yua had to holler to be heard over the waves. She grabbed Jihoon’s rope, giving it a rough yank up. Having no choice but to follow, Jihoon stood up. His legs shook as he slowly straightened himself. His heart pounded against himself. Only a few, measly planks barred him from being whisked away in the sea’s torrents. Jihoon glanced to his side and saw Jisung standing as well. They both exchanged looks of horror.

 

“Now, I’m gonna need you two to just scoot over a bit,” Yua instructed, gesturing toward the edge of the dinghy. “Yes, like that, to the side over there.”

  
The boat dipped to the side with the shift of weight to one side. Jihoon’s eyes trained on the water rushing by. There was a prettiness to it. The bright rays of the sun danced atop the surface, twinkling as if little gems swam atop the surface.

 

“Now, there’s something very important for anybody on a ship to know,” Yua said to the two, “Look at the water and tell me what you see?”

 

The two prisoners both looked intently at the surface. Jihoon wondered if they were to learn a lesson in fishing or some sort of sea foraging. Glancing down at the water, he could occasionally catch his reflection. Bubbles and foam quickly shifted to cover it, but even in the deep blue of the sea, he could make out his silhouette and even some features. Though unable to discern detail, the prisoner knew he certainly had looked better in his life. Even in the inky mirror of the sea, he could see the way his cheeks had sunken in. No doubt myriad bruises and welts covered the surface of his skin. That wasn’t to mention the layer of grime and dirt that had settled on his skin.

 

Jihoon could even see the Vengeance’s hull behind him - all the way up to the railing on the main deck. It looked even more impressive from such a low angle, like a grand wall of black wood. Suddenly, something caught the ex-general’s eye. He squinted, just to assure that it wasn’t some trick of the water. For a moment, he swore there was something there. More pointedly: someone.

 

A single, dark silhouette loomed over the railing of the Vengeance’s main deck. It looked fairly tall, but Jihoon could discern no more in the ever-moving waters. Just as he began turning his head to look, a swift kick was delivered to the small of his back.

 

“ _Splaaaaaaaash_!”

 

Jihoon’s heart wrenched at the abruptness of it all. Cool water shocked his entire body. Needles of cold pricked at the surface of his skin, and his body shuddered in reflex. When the immediate stun of panic subsided, things went quiet. For an instant, Jihoon remained beneath the surface of the water. His limbs thrashed about, yet everything sounded substantially muffled and soft. He feared that would be the last thing he heard: the quiet turbulence of the currents carrying his body away. Dread filled him as he tried to recover.

 

Another jolt of his body woke him up. The prisoner’s hands darted to his chest - the bindings. He reached for his back and realized that his lead was taut. He wasn’t going anywhere, the Lieutenant held him in place.

 

Noise rushed back into Jihoon’s ears as he willed himself to the surface. He’d been acquainted with the idea of swimming long ago but had ultimately never pursued the skill. It wasn’t something he’d ever deemed necessary. The prisoner’s chest heaved as he took a hefty gulp of air upon surfacing. His arms still flailed about as he tried to remain above water. In front of him, he spotted Jisung in a similar state. The poor ex-advisor seemed to be wincing in pain. Judging by his expression, ocean water invaded his sinuses, and he coughed loudly.

 

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” Yua shouted from the dinghy. Jihoon clumsily turned to look at the woman. She stood about a dozen paces away with Jihoon’s rope looped around her wrist. Her stance appeared confident and poised. No doubt a few bumps in a dinghy are nothing to a Lieutenant of the sea.

 

Jisung, between coughs, hollered back to her, “What- what are we doing?!”

 

“These two are surprisingly slow for a couple of court tacticians, aren’t they Miko?” Yua snickered to her peer.

 

Miko joined in the laughter, nodding, “No wonder the Kangs never had a competent navy with folks like this at the helm!” After a few more laughs at the prisoners’ expense, Yua finally elaborated.

 

“As you two understand: we aren’t feed you for free! This isn’t some pleasure cruise, and we sure as hell aren’t doing this for fun. Any competent man of the sea ought to know how to swim. So start working those legs- legs out and straight, kick ‘em up and down.”

 

Jihoon could only look on dazedly for a few moments as reality dawned on him. The Kingdom and Castle Jeon felt further away than it ever had before. In some ways, he still felt as if the entire ordeal was a dream. He anticipated waking up one day, or at least reaching the coast of his Kingdom once more. Yet, with every bit of work, every utterance of degradation from those on board, he’s inched further and further away.

 

“Both of you!” Yua insisted, looking at Jihoon, “And don’t try anything funny, either. Lest my grip on your lifeline here slips a little,” She emphasized her point by yanking on his rope. Feeling his one connection to safety waver - even slightly - sent anxiety shooting through the prisoner’s chest. “Now kick! Kick! Legs straight, one up, one down- That’s it, men!” She turned to Miko, chuckling again, “We might make a couple of fit pirates out of these two yet.”

 

“Pity the crew wants them hanging off the mast,” Miko responded with a shrug.

 

“Can’t be helped, I suppose. Of course, if anything happens to them, the Captain will have us hanging from the mast.”

 

Jihoon couldn’t help but overhear the bit about the ship’s Captain. It occurred to him that he’d not once seen the man. He didn’t even know the man’s name. The only person he’d seen was that treacherous “seer” fellow, ‘Holland’. Jihoon felt most curious about the man revered as Captain of the Onyx Vengeance. He’d heard little of him, but the tone with which his crew regarded him seemed quite awed. All Jihoon knew of the man was that his crew respected him and that - for some reason - he wanted the Kang prisoners alive and unharmed.

 

“That’s right, Mr. Adviser!” Miko called out to Jisung, “Kick them just so! You, too Mr. General!”

 

The prisoner kept his head down, focusing on doing as he’d been told. Legs straight, one then the other, he kicked them in rapid succession. Even with the strength of the current against him, he could feel his body propelling forward. His meager knowledge of swimming gradually began to return. The prisoner began to add his arms to his movements. In conjunction with the kicks of his legs, he brought his arms out of the water, pushing the water behind him as they entered once more.

 

Soon, he and Jisung entered a rhythm of sorts. The exertion caused him to grow winded quickly. Still, he carried on as instructed. The Lieutenants continued barking orders, and it felt not unlike training exercises to the former general. Despite the relative comfort he’d acquired, something still gnawed at the back of Jihoon’s mind.

 

The swimming prisoner, in the midst of his practicing, glanced up. The sunlight obscured most of his vision, flooding it. The Vengeance’s hull managed to absorb a substantial amount, luckily. He followed the dark wood structure until landing upon the deck’s railing. There, he thought, there it stood. A figure, something tall and dark, slender. It nearly diminished against the white, hot light of the sun.

 

Jihoon blinked rapidly. He wondered if his eyes were tricking him, or, perhaps, he’d gotten salt in them. Regardless, he swore to himself that the figure hovering over the side of the railing was watching him. Was it a man? A woman?

 

Was it the esteemed Captain?    

 

Maybe it was a ghost.

 

Whatever hung over the side of that railing, it watched Jihoon. He could feel them: a pair of eyes carving into his back. He wondered if they knew he was looking at them. Or it.

 

A wave kicked up, washing over the prisoner’s face suddenly. Salt water filled Jihoon’s nose and throat. When he’d finished sputtering and blinking tears out of his eyes, Jihoon glanced toward the Vengeance again.

 

They were gone.

 

* * *

 

“-orning Captain!”

 

“Good morning!” Seongwoo answered the child who’d skittered past him in passing.

 

“Captain!” “Captain Ong! Nice to see you on the deck today!”

 

“My thanks!”

 

“Captain! Beautiful day, innit?”

 

“Perfect day to be at sea!” Ong answered chipperly.

 

It had been a few days since he’d enacted his plan for the Kang prisoners. Though Seongwoo had heard a few grumblings among the crew, overall it had gone over well. Many agreed they ought to work if physically capable, and the Lieutenants, though doing so as a punishment, were most suited to keeping an eye on them. After delegating the Kang prisoners to Taeseob, Seongwoo had achieved a surprising peace of mind. He trusted the longtime friend with his life and, more importantly, his crew’s life. Knowing the Vengeance’s “guests” were under his watch soothed him. The weight off his shoulders filled the captain with a renewed sense of vigor. The first mate had been right, after all. He could not cower in his quarters forever. The crew deserved a leader in whom they could trust and believe. Seongwoo wanted to be that once more. He needed to. Hence, he’d taken up his duties again, in earnest.

 

“Headed to the foredeck, Captain?”

 

“But of course!” Seongwoo said, giving the bustling cook a smile.

 

The Captain practically skipped up the steps to the foredeck where his pilot and first mate stood by the helm. Taeseob stood next to one of the Vengeance’s adept pilots, chatting. When the first mate noticed his captain, he stood up straighter. The pilot followed, and the two bowed respectfully to the man’s presence. Seongwoo regarded the two with a nod, urging them to stand at ease. He greeted the two with a smile.

 

“Good morning, you two. She seems to be sailing smoothly today,” Seongwoo said.

 

The pilot nodded, a grin across his face, “Beautifully, Captain.”

 

“The waters are rather calm, surprisingly so given the change of seasons,” Taeseob noted.

 

Seongwoo shrugged. He looked out onto the horizon. As Taeseob had noted, the waters were incredibly calm. Not a cloud darkened the sky, and the watery peaks of the sea bobbed up and down peacefully.

 

“Summer is nearly upon us,” The Captain answered, “Let us be grateful for that. We’ve had our fair share of stormy days, it’s about time the sun shone down again.”

 

Taeseob’s lips upturned into a slight grin. He nodded in agreement.

 

Seongwoo turned to the pilot, “Eunki, would you kindly lend me a small courtesy?”

 

The pilot raised his eyebrows inquisitively, “Of course. Anything, Captain. What do you need?”

 

“If it’s all the same,” Seongwoo said, stepping closer to the wooden wheel of the helm, “I’d like to take over for a bit.”

 

Eunki’s eyes widened in shock. He took his hands off the wheel, gesturing for his Captain to take hold. Seongwoo did so gladly. Wrapping his hands around the worn wood of the helm made memories flood back to him. It was something he had done many times before: pilot a ship. Or, at least pretend to. It summoned the vision of his Papa hoisting him up and letting him turn the wheel this way or that. A drop of melancholy stained Seongwoo’s mood ever so slightly. Regardless, he maintained his sunny exterior and spoke to Eunki.

 

“Thank you,” Seongwoo said. “Why not see if the navigator needs any help? She ought to be in the forecastle. You’ll be summoned when you’re needed up here.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Eunki happily took the command. He started pacing toward the steps down onto the main deck but stopped himself. Turning on his heel, he approached Captain Ong once more. His voice lower, he looked at the man sincerely, “Oh- Captain?”

 

“Hm?” Seongwoo asked with a quirked eyebrow.

 

Eunki’s voice dropped, a slight sheepishness underlying his tone, “Glad to see you back.”

 

Seongwoo’s heart did a flip of sorts in his chest. He forced a smile and nodded in return, watching the other skip off toward the forecastle.

 

In Seongwoo’s perspective, “back” was a very relative term. He’d been on the Vengeance for weeks already. Taeseob had made it clear what the crew thought of his “return” prior to his recent emergence. Still, Seongwoo wasn’t quite sure he had entirely rebounded from his time at Castle Jeon. In truth, he felt that a part of him remained there, lost forever in the maze of stone walls and gleaming tile. He couldn’t identify precisely what he had lost there. Only that, upon returning, he felt like a completely different man. His body sailed on the Onyx Vengeance, but his soul - the man his crew so gladly welcomed back - wasn’t truly present. A different man had inherited the title “Captain”, a man they surely wouldn’t recognize. Of course, that did no good for crew morale. And so, Seongwoo mustered his strength and moved forward. He put on the best facade of confidence possible, and, apparently, it had been working.

 

When Eunki had disappeared beyond earshot, Taeseob took to the Captain’s side. He grinned at his superior, nudging him with his elbow.

 

“I’m proud of you, Seongwoo,” Taeseob said.

 

“For what?”

 

The first mate rolled his eyes, “Need I spell it out?”

 

“No,” Seongwoo sighed. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon and his hands firmly on the helm as he spoke, “No you don’t need to. I… You were right. I needed to wake up. To return to my duties. There is no pride in serving your basic function as a human being.”

 

“Being the captain of a galleon is rather beyond basic.”

 

“Basic or not, it is my role, and I have been negligent in fulfilling it.”

 

“No need to dwell on what’s past. Keep your eye on the horizon, yeah?”

 

“Aye,” Seongwoo huffed, his lips unconsciously pouting. “Any updates from the Lieutenants?”

 

“Yes, actually,” Taeseob nodded, “It’s been going well. The crew is still rather divided on the matter. Some agree, some disagree. Many wish them dead. However, no fights have broken out, and everyone’s stayed in line so far.”

 

“Everyone being the crew?”

 

“Well- Yes. The crew and the prisoners. They’ve done quite well, actually. The Lieutenants say they do what they’re told with little complaint. Even the little crafty bastard. They must understand the situation they’re in.”

 

“Good,” Seongwoo nodded satisfactorily. His lips downturned when his mind dared drift to the most troublesome of the prisoners. “All of the prisoners? I mean- they are all reforming well?”

 

Taeseob’s content expression faltered ever so slightly, “All but one, sir.”

 

“I see,” Seongwoo felt a pit form in his stomach. “Any plans on dealing with the delinquent prisoner?”

 

“He’s not causing excessive trouble by any means. Just being stubborn is all. Don’t worry, Captain. He’ll have to eat eventually.”

 

“He’s not eating?” Seongwoo couldn’t conceal the concern dripping from his voice. His eyes leave the sea to scrutinize Taeseob’s face. He craved even the slightest hint or detail regarding the prisoner’s state of being.

 

The first mate, as if detecting his Captain’s discernment, keeps the straightest face he can muster, “He’s refusing to finish his meals is all. If we put him to work like the others he’d overexert himself. Remember, Captain,” Taeseob’s eyes bore intensely into Seongwoo’s, “You trusted me to take care of this. I assure you, I will take care of it.”

 

Seongwoo nodded. Taeseob was right: he’d been given the task, the Captain ought to trust him to do as he promised. Still, no amount of assurance could undo the knot his guts had tangled themselves into. He gripped the knobs of the helm tightly as if squeezing all of his guilt into the wheel would be of help. Unfortunately, the action proved futile; it did little more than make his hands sore.

 

“What you ought to concern yourself with is this!” Taeseob’s tone took a rapid turn. It had gone from serious to upbeat in seconds. He dug a hand into his jacket and withdrew a rolled piece of paper: a map. An impish grin spread across the first mate’s face as he teasingly unrolled it.

 

“What are you talking about?” Ong asked, chuckling slightly. “You best not dare show me another crude picture. I remember the last time you fished a piece of paper out of your pocket like that. It turned out to be the sketched likeness of… Oh, God, who was it?”

 

Taeseob snorted, “What? You don’t remember my stunning rendition of the Holy Captain?”

 

Seongwoo’s nose scrunched, and he couldn’t help but snort himself, “Oh- God, I- I do. Trust me, I really do.”

 

“God blessed him in so, so many ways.”

 

“Stop it,” Seongwoo laughed, his shoulders shaking.

 

“A pity he’s a man of the cloth…”

 

“Stop! Lord- I still remember when you’d unfurled that thing claiming it was a chart of sorts. Then I was assaulted with- with that-” Seongwoo hunched over in laughter, “-that monstrous thing.”

 

“I promise you, it was to scale!”

 

“Shut it!”

 

“God- I remember how disturbed you were. You kept asking me if I’d seen it or not,” Taeseob giggled.

 

Pink stained Seongwoo’s face, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or air deprivation.

 

“And you never answered me! Ugh- How you tormented me about that infatuation!”

 

“A bit funny, isn’t it? Someone as impish as you always liking those pure, righteous types.”

 

“Well, Captain Siwon is not without his edges,” Seongwoo said, wiping the tears that had risen in his eyes.

 

“You needn’t remind me. Quite funny, he is. A priest and a pirate captain. Arms full of tattoos and a body carved not unlike a statue. Yet he delivers sermons on his main deck three times during the week.”

 

“You shame me yet you spent a year tailing The Brunet’s First Mate around like a puppy dog. The man hated you!”

 

“Ah, Changmin,” Taeseob sighed wistfully, remembering his youth, “He regarded me with such cold scorn.” He playfully smacked Seongwoo on the shoulder, “You do me injustice! Changmin did not hate me. He hated everyone. Well, everyone except his Captain, that is.”

 

“Funny considering how warm Yunho is.”

 

“I still remember making him a crown of flowers - we’d docked at some little Southern island for something. He gave me the most aggravated expression I’d ever seen before-”

 

“I can’t say I recall this story. Have I heard it before?”

 

“Perhaps not. I was so devastated, I likely swore to myself never to tell you. Even now it feels surreal to recount.”

 

“Why? What happened?”

 

“Well, you see, little apprentice that I was, I gave him a crown of flowers. I’m not sure why I thought it a good idea. As I said before: he gave me a most exasperated expression. Then, he looked me in the eye and- can you guess what he did?”

 

“Wh- Did he throw them in your face?”

 

“Psh- I wish he had! No!” Taeseob’s voice lowered, and he leaned in, “The man looks me in the eye and he - I mean this - he eats one.”

 

“He what?!”

 

“He ate it. He ate my flower crown,” Taeseob said with a nod.

 

Seongwoo leaned onto the helm for support. Laughter shook his body.

 

“He did- He didn’t- He did not eat your flower crown!” Seongwoo insisted between wheezes.

 

“He did! He did eat my flower crown! I was devastated. I turned around and walked away without another word.”

 

“Why did he- Why would he do that?!”

 

“I don’t know! I think- I think he wanted to scare me off or- or he thought it an entertaining trick to play on me. Whatever his reasoning, I certainly left him alone after that.”

 

“Good God, Taeseob, I’m sorry. I- How do you face the man now?!”

 

“The bastard went on to act like it’d never happened,” Taeseob huffed and crossed his arms animatedly. “It’s alright, though. I’d still marry him if he asked.”

 

“How gracious of you,” Seongwoo snickered. He glanced at the rolled paper that Taeseob held, remember why they’d digressed in the first place. “Now, what is that you’re holding, then? If not a detailed drawing of someone’s naked body.”

 

“Ah, yes, this!” Taeseob waved it around enthusiastically, “Nothing special. Just a map.” Slowly, he unrolled it, showing it to the Captain.

 

Seongwoo’s eyebrows raised in interest. He canvassed the marked paper. It showed the southeastern coast of the continent but focused primarily on the islands beyond. Taeseob pointed to a spot in the blue expanse of the sea.

 

“This is where we are now,” His finger moved across to point out another location.

 

Seongwoo gasped, “Shit.” All the giddiness flooded from his body, replaced with something else. He struggled to identify it. Anxiety? Happiness? “We’re so close,” He said with an awed whisper.

 

Taeseob nodded happily, “We are. Are you not excited?” He bounced up and down on his heels.

 

“I still labor to fathom it at all,” Seongwoo admitted. It still felt immensely abstract to see it as a smudge on a piece of paper. That mapped out spot, a tiny depiction on a detailed map, meant so much more than a mere illustration could show.

 

It was that little spot that had started it all.

 

That, Seongwoo reminded himself, is what I did this for.

 

* * *

 

Eunji walked quietly down the west corridor of Castle Jeon. Her shoes hit the tile of the hallway with a soft clack, and she feared it would betray her. Few traversed the corridors at the late hours of the night. Nobles occasionally had late engagements, but they were few. Most servants slept.

 

Most, but not all.

 

The head maid clung to the walls as she advanced further. She hunted; though for what, she was still unsure. Ever since serving at the Prince’s private dinner, something hadn’t quite sat right with her. She felt as if she’d been presented with myriad pieces to different puzzles. The bits provided appeared to be from different games, yet she’d been tasked with assembling them into one, cohesive solution. Eunji knew that, in truth, piecing together what she knew wasn’t necessarily her responsibility. She had no obligation to anyone to straighten out her thoughts.

 

Yet, with her curious nature, she could not help feeling burdened by everything.

 

Prince Daehwi’s sudden proposal struck a chord of suspicion. It resonated deep in the maid’s chest, causing unsettlement to reverberate into her very bones. To her, it simply made no sense. Prior to King Daniel’s death, the Baes had been aloof, to say put it modestly. Eunji had heard the Empire’s reputation: they were a cold and calculated people. They did not forthrightly show emotion nor did they frivolously forge allegiances.

 

Queen Irene had been courteous to King Daniel, but Eunji (and the servants to whom she spoke) had seen little else. From what others had relayed around the servants’ quarters, the two were genial but disconnected. King Daniel had shown her a myriad of things. He’d presented to her everything from court culture to military barracks on the grounds. Nothing had seemed to move her (or so Eunji had been told). Though just an insinuation, Eunji had sensed that the Bae Queen was eager to leave Castle Jeon. At least, prior to the death of King Daniel.

 

The King’s death changed everything.

 

On one hand, Eunji supposed her hunch could be disingenuous to the Baes’ character. Perhaps, she thought, the two were genuinely kind, gracious people. Upon seeing the Kingdom dumped upon someone as young as Prince Daehwi, many would express sympathy. Staying by his side was noble of the Baes. Noble but not necessary, in Eunji’s mind. After offering condolences and attending the funeral, why stay? That was her most pressing question.

 

Queen Irene had given Eunji a certain set of impressions. While Eunji knew her observations limited, she’d always thought herself a good judge of character. The Bae Queen regarded the Kang generosity well, but something about her gaze betrayed the slightest disdain for Castle Jeon. Whether it the way in which the late King Daniel had run things or the architecture, Eunji did not know. What the maid could sense, though, was the Queen’s eagerness to leave.

  
The woman had been courteous to King Daniel. Little else could be said of her manner. The far-away look her eyes took on implied that her mind was on other things. It made the most sense to Eunji that the woman longed to go back to her Queendom. The head maid could hardly blame her. She figured that, in the same position as Queen Irene, she would fuss ceaselessly about her own territory.

 

Queen Irene also appeared to dislike mess. Mess came in more forms than literal clutter. It manifested in the way Kang courtiers often liked to conduct themselves. The Kingdom prospered, and, consequently, its nobles dined and drank richly. Queen Irene consistently maintained her prim air, even in the midst of celebrations. She always distanced herself from the Kang people while even her ladies in waiting mingled with Kang nobles happily. Distilled to their most frank form, Eunji’s judgments were simple.

  
Queen Irene wanted to leave. She’d tired of the visit quickly, and had no interest in forging any legitimate bond with the Kang Kingdom.

 

However, that changed upon King Daniel’s death.

 

The switch immediately riled suspicion in the maid. Suddenly, the Bae nobles had fixed themselves to the Prince’s side. Would a noble not want to return to their kingdom after such an upsetting thing? Surely they would feel unsafe - especially given the odd circumstances of the King’s death.

 

Soldiers _still_ scoured the forest for signs of General Park’s body, and all of the concubines had gone missing. With the majority of the guard outdoors during the festival, few were capable of giving statements regarding the night of the assassination. Those who had been indoors reported nothing. Nothing at all. Every single person remained baffled. As confusing as the ordeal was, little urgency had been assigned to the investigation after the King’s funeral. His body was the one that had been located. It had washed up on the coast of a pond in the forest. Though bloated and deformed, the birthmark beneath the eye had identified their ruler. At least, that is what the rumors had been.

 

Despite such dubious circumstances, the Baes insisted on staying. Why? They’d shown no eagerness to support or ally with the Kang Kingdom prior. Had they truly been so moved by seeing the death of a King? Or was something else at play?

 

Then there was Prince Daehwi himself. He’d had the most to gain from King Daniel’s death. However, Eunji wasn’t well acquainted with the Prince. The boy’s age scarcely breached into adulthood. He’d been so shaken by Somi’s death, Eunji felt unsure he had the stomach to shed blood for a title. If he loved Prince Jinyoung as much as he said, would the bond forged by their marriage diminish the bond of their countries so much more? Alternatively, he could have pursued Queen Irene if he wanted to usurp King Daniel and gain power. Perhaps such a route wasn’t as effective, but was Prince Daehwi truly so power hungry? He’d always seemed fairly content. The court adored him, and he wasn’t burdened with the duties of a King. If Prince Daehwi had been discontent with his life, his behavior had never been indicative of it.

 

All of Eunji’s thoughts buzzed rowdily in her head. Her theories all seemed possible yet improbable at the same time. One theory often contradicted the other, and she often questioned why she cared so much. Who was she, a lowly servant, to question the order of things? What matter did it have who sat atop the throne? She was tasked with cleaning up after them all the same.

 

Seongwoo, she thought, that was why it mattered; because Seongwoo had happened.

 

“--ack. Clack. Clack…”

 

The noise of shoes against tile alerted Eunji to the presence of others. The maid practically jumped out of her skin. Her eyes widened, and she glanced toward the far side of the corridor. A small throng of ladies turned the corner. Just as the maid had anticipated: Queen Irene and her ladies promenaded down the hall toward her quarters.

 

Eunji leaped behind the nearest statue. She peeked out from behind the stone likeness of an angel. Straining her ears, she listened carefully to hear what the women were saying. Initially, she had a hard time scrutinizing their words. A mass of tittering and giggles floated above their conversation. However, they walked nearer, and soon, Eunji could catch a drift of their conversation.

 

“...an’t believe it! I can hardly wait!” One of the ladies said, skipping down the corridor excitedly.

 

Queen Irene giggled, “Nor I. I would demand the ceremony be tomorrow if I could! Alas, we must wait.”

 

“But how long, your majesty?” Another lady asked, faux pouting.

 

“My brother will marry no Prince,” Queen Irene said cheekily. “He shall wed a King.”

 

The ladies giggled at the implication. Eunji shrunk further behind the statue as the ladies neared. She watched carefully, her heart beginning to knock against her chest loudly.

 

“That’s right!” Yet another lady chimed in- the youngest among them, it seemed. “I hardly forgot about the coronation. How long after that? A year?”

 

Queen Irene chuckled heartily, her hand covering her mouth as she looked at the girl endearingly.

 

“A bit sooner than that,” The Queen said. “Quite a bit.” The ladies gasped, and their conversation once again steered to the upcoming nuptials.

 

“Soon? How soon, your majesty?” One of the ladies asked.

 

“We’ve no date just yet! Remember, there must be a King to marry first!” Queen Irene said, lightly smacking her lady in jest. “However, his majesty and I both agree that we needn’t wait. He loves my brother, and my brother he. I have a Kingdom to which I greatly wish to return, and-” She turned to the youngest of the bunch, “-you must become acquainted with my castle.” The girl nodded eagerly.

 

The conversation began quieting as the Queen and her accompanying ladies walked further away. Soon, they turned another corner, and all Eunji could hear was the echoes of their laughter. The maid had figured she would hear something of worth if she waited near the Queen’s quarters. She wished what she heard could lend her more clarity. In truth, the Queen’s conversation only yielded more puzzlement for the maid. Yet another inconsistency in the before and after.

  
Queen Irene had been so stoic before, but she suddenly appeared eager to marry off her brother. Less than a year? The Princes had been acquainted for mere weeks. No less, the kingdoms themselves had been acquainted for mere weeks. Eunji had received yet another piece for her peculiar puzzle, but she’d not been able to conclusively connect any of the previous ones to it. Or to each other.

 

“Eunji!” A whisper abruptly cut through Eunji’s contemplations.

 

The maid jumped. She turned on her heel, hands up in fists and eyes wide. Just as she lifted her arm to swing at a possible assailant, her jaw dropped. Two familiar maids looked at her with looks of terror on their faces. One cowered behind the other. With a sigh, the head maid put her fists down.

 

She rolled her eyes, groaning, “What the hell are you two doing here?”

 

Namjoo and Hayoung greeted their superior sheepishly. They each bowed, delivering brief apologies for disturbing the eldest. Hayoung provided the explanation.

 

“Miss Eunji, we’re worried about you!” She threw her hands up.

 

Eunji tilted her head in confusion, “Worried about me? Worried about what?”

 

“About everything!” Namjoo cut in, “You’ve been acting so strange lately. You always seem to be looking somewhere far away, and we’re constantly losing you in conversations.”

 

“We know you haven’t been getting sleep. You’ve been working yourself to exhaustion- and beyond that! It’s showing on your face,” Hayoung added, her arms crossed.

 

“Hayoung- Both of you! I have told you time and time again, I am alright.”

 

“Alright?” Hayoung scoffed. “Is this alright? Sneaking and skulking behind statues in the middle for the night.”

 

“Excuse me!” Eunji held up a finger indignantly, “But in case it’s escaped you- we’re all sneaking and skulking behind a statue now, aren’t we girls? Hell, I’m not sure how long you two have been tailing me. Who’s sneaking around now?”

 

“Well we wouldn’t have to if you would just talk to us!” Namjoo pouted. “Why is our concern so galling to you?”

 

“Because! You needn’t be concerned- there is nothing to worry about. Nothing!”

 

“Miss Eunji,” Hayoung said, her voice lower, more resigned. “With the utmost respect, we refuse to leave your side until you tell us what it is that is troubling you. If you will not tell us now, we will continue to approach you in this manner until you crack. We will find you while you are taking a bath, while you are working, while you are sleeping- we won’t cease! We shall follow you to-”

 

“Alright!” Eunji held up a hand in defeat. For once, she begrudged her girls’ good nature. Damn them for being kind and caring, she thought. “Alright, fine. I will disclose my- my slight inconveniences… Under a condition.”

 

“Fine.” “What is it?” They both responded.

 

“You are not to tell anyone - I mean this - anyone about what I tell you. Not a soul. You do not even pray about it so God should hear, do you understand me?”

 

“But God hears everythi-” Namjoo’s utterance got cut off by Hayoung’s elbow in her side.

 

“Why do you insist on such secrecy? Of course, we will swear to it, but it only causes me to worry more,” Hayoung said.

 

Eunji frowned. She bit her lip nervously, eyeing her to juniors as she considered her words.

 

“What I tell you is uncertain, but also… Also dangerous. If the wrong person hears what I have to say, I could-” Her mind drifted to Seongwoo for an instant, “-I could disappear.”

 

Hayoung and Namjoo exchanged worried looks. Despite their obvious concern, they both listened attentively. Hayoung gave Eunji an affirmative nod, urging her to speak more.

 

Eunji looked up in thought; she wasn’t sure precisely what to tell the girls. Would it be best to dump her massive jumbling of thoughts on them? Or ought she only tell them of what she was sure? She decided that, for the safety of the girls, keeping things vague would be best.

 

“I have suspicions about the death of the King,” Eunji said. “Do you not think it strange that the Baes show up and not a week later the highest ranking members of the court are dead? Gone?”

 

“What do you suspect?” Hayoung asked. She swallowed nervously. Namjoo merely watched on with wide eyes. The two hung on Eunji’s every word.

 

“Foul play,” Eunji said frankly. “I- I cannot say whom or how. I merely think it is strange that everything has fallen into line so perfectly.”

 

“Do you suspect the Prince?” Namjoo asked, “He had the most to gain, certainly.”

 

Hayoung replied, “Yes, but as Eunji had mentioned: the timing of the Baes’ arrival is most uncanny.”

 

“As I said,” Eunji told the two, “I do not know. I do not know whom. I do not know how. The only thing that I can determine is that… Well, things are not as they seem. Our King was not taken out by some drunk, unsettled bandit amidst the festivities.”

 

“So… This is what has caused you such unrest all this time,” Hayoung stated.

 

The head maid nodded, “Yes. And now you wretched girls have forced me to impose upon you the same discomfort! Are you satisfied?”

 

“Not until we get to the bottom of this with you,” The lower maid’s tone communicated nothing but the utmost determination.

 

Eunji’s eyes widened, “Wh- No! I told you: this is dangerous! If foul play is at hand, both the Baes and our Prince have allies everywhere in this castle. What if one if an involved party overhears? Do you think they would hesitate a second to off a maid? We are disposable to them- invisible even! You will do no such thing.”

 

“You cannot force us to stop,” Hayoung insisted. Namjoo nodded emphatically, standing up straighter and puffing her chest out.

 

The head maid wrung a hand through her hair. She felt defeated. Her girls were determined, and they kept their word. She knows that because she’d taught them to do so. If Hayoung said the two were not going to stop, they wouldn’t. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Eunji sighed.

 

With a groan, she admitted defeat, “Fine.” She said, her tone clipped. “Fine, just- If I tell you I will ask you for help- if I assure you I will divulge my thoughts to you, will you go off to bed?”

 

“Do you promise?” Namjoo asked, her eyes boring into Eunji’s.

  
“Yes,” Eunji returned both of their gazes with her own, “Yes, I will. I- Even if I confirm my suspicions, I’ve no power to act on them. What- what can we do? We are maids,” She chuckled dryly. “Our word means nothing.”

 

“Still,” Hayoung said, “If such treason truly rules our Kingdom I feel as if our people have a right to know. I- I can’t say I know what is best, either, but… We cannot simply stand by, can we? Especially if King Daniel’s death happened at the hands of a foreign power.”

 

“Well,” Eunji pursed her lips with pique, “I agree. I believe in justice and righteousness, and we can hope our nobility does as well, but… My girls, it is late. Perhaps we can sleep and reconvene another time. I,” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “I believe my mind has been loaded with enough for today. We’re to be up bright and early, anyways.”

 

“You’re right,” Namjoo said. Hayoung nodded in agreement. “We’ll be off, then. See you in the quarters, Miss Eunji.”

 

“Yes, I’m right behind you,” Eunji leaned against the statue, rubbing her eyes, “Let me just- I’ve this terrible headache. It will subside shortly, I know.”

 

“Miss Eunji,” Hayoung said pointedly.

 

“I am serious!” Eunji insisted, “I don’t doubt you’ve caught these little episodes of mine many times now.”

 

Hayoung looked down in concession, “It does seem as if you’re afflicted with them often.”

 

“Yes. I will be behind you two in a few moments. I just need to close my eyes a bit is all.”

 

“Good night, Miss Eunji,” Hayoung said. She and Namjoo gave their superior a few more farewell regards before walking off.

 

Eunji remained stationary for a couple of minutes afterward. She stayed still, eyes closed and head bowed back. It wasn’t until she no longer heard the echoes of her girls’ steps that she opened them. The head maid peeked around the corner of the corridor to assure the two had gone.

 

Swallowing anxiously, Eunji reached beneath her bustier. From it, she withdrew a folded letter. It had seen considerable wear since she’d received it. The edges had frayed, and little rips and tears started cutting into the wrinkled letter. She hadn’t let it out of her sight since reading it for the first time. Despite her many subsequent readings, she still had gotten no closer to the answers she’d been seeking. In spite of that, she gave it one more read. She hoped that, perhaps, this time she could glean some answers from the text:

 

_“To My Dearest Friend Eunji,_

 

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I wanted to write this because I trust you more than anyone in Castle Jeon. I must confess: I have taken part in something that will change the course of your Kingdom’s fate forever. For this, I apologize. I know the words ‘I’m sorry’ cannot begin to pay penance for the what I have taken instrumental part in._

_  
_ _The truth is, I am no mere concubine. I never was._

 

_I worked with someone in the Castle to execute this heinous deed. In some ways, I do feel justified. My reasoning for doing this is beyond personal desire. Others are depending on me to complete this mission. I am not sure if I can say I leave with regrets or not. Regrets or no, I believe a few memories will haunt me perpetually, both good and bad._

 

_I never expected to love anyone here. Yet, now I leave, my heart all the heavier for having resisted my mind’s outcries to remain untethered._

 

_Take this black pearl earring as something to remember me by. In the years to come, when the face of your nation has changed, know it is proof that I was real. That the brief time we spent together was real, and that I cherished it. I hope you do, too. That is, if you can forgive me._

 

_I shall always remember you fondly as the one to whom I could speak most honestly. Please stay well and know you are in my prayers._

 

_If you ever wonder about me, look to the stars. Gaze upon the moon and know I am there._

 

_Ong Seongwoo”_

 

* * *

 

Lady Kim Yerim delicately brushed Queen Bae Irene’s hair. The instrument with which she did it shone in the candlelight stunningly. The silver horsehair brush had been crafted so immaculately that Yeri feared mishandling it. Carvings and embossings spanned the beautiful thing, depicting a garden scene on the back of the large, round brush. The straw-colored bristles glided effortlessly down the length of Queen Irene’s glossy, raven-colored hair. It mesmerized Yeri.

 

“Baby Jinyoung will be thrilled to hear about it!” Lady Son Wendy beamed. She stood by the Queen’s bed, batting at the sheets delicately to fluff them up for her. Lady Seulgi had taken the other half of the bed, assisting Wendy in the fluffing while Joy aided Yeri in brushing her majesty’s hair.

 

Since being taken under Joy’s wing, Yeri had slotted in nicely with Queen Irene’s ladies. The Bae Empire had always had a reputation for coldness; however, Yeri learned quickly just how colorful the lot genuinely was. Joy had a demureness about her, but her name preceded her. She laughed and loved with a refreshing ease. Lady Wendy possessed wit sharper than a sword and expressed herself vividly. Lady Seulgi had an impeccable eye for art and a surprising talent for instruments - she could play guitar and draw beautifully. Then, of course, there was Queen Irene. The woman displayed a duality yet unseen by Yeri. Her exterior could almost be described as frigid, cold to the touch even. She exuded an aura of divinity that disinclined those unworthy from even approaching her vicinity. In truth, the woman was surprisingly affectionate to those close to her. She had many quirks that Yeri would never have anticipated such as an acute sensitivity to smell.

 

“I cannot wait to see the expression on his face,” Irene clapped happily. Her expression faltered slightly, and she sighed. “God truly works in mysterious ways, does he not?”

 

“Hm?” Yeri grunted inquisitively. It came out without intention, but she did not take the implied question back.

 

“Well,” Irene’s voice dropped into a more serious tone, “A pity how it’s all gone about, really.” Her eyes found Yeri’s through their reflections in the mirror. Yeri felt her heart sink slightly.

 

“Very much so, your majesty,” Yeri agreed, nodding somberly. The bubbly mood in the room popped, and a fog of solemnity rolled in to replace it. Yeri, feeling the mounting dismay, quickly spoke in an attempt to diffuse it. “Still, you speak wisely. God intended for things to be this way. Now, we are blessed with the opportunity to watch your brother marry a King! A King whom he will adore, and who shall love him dearly. That is a rarity I have never known!”

 

Irene’s cheery expression returned quickly, and she bounced happily on her vanity stool, “Yes, yes. It- It is. Now, Yeri, I understand you do not know so much about my past, yes?” Yeri’s head tilted slightly in confusion, but she nodded regardless.

 

“I suppose not, your majesty,” She answered.

 

“Well, that is alright. I trusted Joy, and you’ve been no disappointment. I say so not to reproach you in any manner. I- I suppose I am speaking verbosely. What I mean is: this victory of love - this grace of God - it means so much more because of my past.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Our parents were, well, to put it kindly, they were not in love. The two had been betrothed to one another near the time of my mother’s conception - my father had a considerable number of years on her. The two- well…” Irene pursed her lips with displeasure, “They never got on. I suspect my mother always hated father. At least, ever since she was old enough to understand what their betrothal truly meant.”

 

“How many years were they apart?” Yeri asked. Part of her feared the question too personal, but Irene didn’t seem to mind.

 

“Oh, something over a decade. I am sure you have seen many a suitor twice your age try to court you.”

 

Yeri groaned at the thought, “Unfortunately.”

 

“Yes, well, when one is betrothed to a King, there is no denial- no way out,” Irene frowned, “No choice.”

 

“And to a man so much older than you- since birth no less… I can understand what you mean.”

 

“Yes, well… It is no secret that my father mistreated mother terribly. I suppose the people of court would dismiss it, but as her child, I could not. The two did little more than tolerate one another. Calling their coexistence, tolerance, was even a stretch. All Jinyoung and I could do was watch. Mother probably resented father for forcing her to bear children, so it wasn’t as if they gave us much more regard than they gave one another.

 

We were caught in the middle. I resigned myself to being nothing more than a bargaining piece long ago, but brother… He is more sensitive than I. Watching father and mother- seeing their pure contempt- it caused him such sorrow. He was so terrified of becoming like them. I suppose my point in divulging all of this - aside from wanting you to know more about myself - is that it impresses upon you the genuine joy which my brother’s matrimony gives me.”

 

“He can really marry someone he loves,” Yeri grinned warmly at Irene through the mirror. The Queen smiled back.

 

“Yes, finally. Some good for us. Our Empire has prospered, but God knows that did not happen without sacrifice. I just- I am ready for genuine happiness to reign once more. Our parents’ bitterness and eventual death, the struggles I have had to overcome as unwed reigning queen, the pressure put on Jinyoung, leaving the Kingdom only to happen upon the assassination of a King! Just-” Irene’s shoulders went slack, and she sighed, “-just for once for things to go right. I could cry with happiness.”

 

Yeri gave Irene’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Just hearing her Queen’s jubilation made her eyes well up with tears. She blinked them away rapidly, sniffling a bit.

 

“Goodness, yes. God exacts his plans in the most curious ways,” She giggled, “And to think, just weeks ago you and King Daniel were the talk of the court.”

 

Irene snorted, “Thank God my brother did not have to wed him. I suspect he was ready to run away and change his name had he been betrothed to King Daniel.”

 

Yeri had been giggling along with Irene and the others, but upon processing the Queen’s words, her laughter halted. She paused for a few moments, recounting them in her head.

 

“Your brother?” She forced out another chuckle, hoping not to sound too confused, “Forgive my hearing, your majesty. I merely recall the court always talking about you and King Daniel marrying.”

 

Irene could no longer hold in her laughter. Her body shook with the fit of giggles that overtook her, and she threw her head back. When the initial humor of it had subsided, she regarded her lady again.

 

“Oh, how- how I love a funny girl!” Irene said, her voice still quivering slightly with giggles, “Me? Marry that buffoon?” The other ladies joined in, their laughter ricocheting off of the vaulted ceiling of her majesty’s bedchamber.

 

“W-well,” Yeri tried to remain composed, not betraying her utter confusion. “The Kang court certainly had a wrong read, didn’t they?”

 

“God- Did they, did they really think that I would marry that- that manchild?” Irene shrieked again with laughter, “Oh, my dear. I never intended on marrying that man. King or no King, I’ve my own country to run. Last thing I need is an imbecile like that having his hands all over my court. The only reason I’d even agreed to visit was at the insistence of my dear brother. He and his beloved have been exchanging letters nonstop for years now- ever since they studied at that abbey together…” She snorted again, another wave of humor hitting her at the thought of her and Daniel being married.

 

Yeri laughed along with the others. They laughed and laughed and laughed, and quickly, they moved back to discussion about the Prince’s nuptials. Though conversation progressed, Yeri did not. No matter how desperately she tried, she could not shake jarring realization lingering stubbornly clinging to the back of her mind.


	5. One Falcon and Two Prisoners

Water lapped up calmly against Vengeance’s dark hull. Gulls flapped about around the masts in a greedy attempt to catch wayward biscuits thrown by the lookout. A gentle breeze blew across the deck much to the crew’s relief. Since setting off, the sun had been beating down upon the decks ceaselessly. In lieu of winter’s stubborn insistence on staying, sunlight beamed down on everything beneath the sky as if to make up for lost time. 

  
Captain Ong Seongwoo stepped out of the forecastle after a briefing with his navigator. The sun’s position hadn’t quite reached the middle of the sky, meaning he had time to spare prior to his next engagement. 

 

“How do you do, Captain?” “Mornin’ captain!” “Captain Ong! Captain Ong!”

 

Busy crewmembers and rambunctious children skirted around the ship’s commander, greeting him enthusiastically. Seongwoo nodded at those he passed in acknowledgment. He ascended the creaky steps onto the foredeck where his first mate and pilot stood. Nothing but water could be seen on the horizon. The captain’s stomach flipped knowing that soon there would be land in the distance. It felt so incredibly close, yet immeasurably far at the same time. He couldn’t shake the notion that something catastrophic would happen before his arrival. Things had gone almost too easily since boarding the Vengeance.

 

“Captain,” Taeseob nodded at Seongwoo genially.

 

“Taeseob. Your morning’s gone to plan, I trust?”

 

“Yes, sir. The carpenters are nearly done with the repairs on the larboard side of the gundeck and the cannons have been cleaned as you asked. Did you talk to the Quartermaster?”

 

“I’m to see him shortly.”

 

“Excellent. He had told me yesterday that his counting of the newly acquired inventory was nearly complete. That castle equipped very well. The crew shall be eating splendidly for the remainder of the voyage.”

 

“Glad to hear. Were you given the impression that we’d have surplus enough for when we dock?”

 

“Hm,” Taeseob looked up in thought. “I believe you’d have to speak with him, but I don’t see why not. Unless he was being glib- not that he’s the type.”

 

“Good. The crew may grumble about more stringent rations, but I think it’d be wise to save some, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Agreed, Captain. It is most prudent of you to consider such things.”

 

Squawking gulls and crashing waves filled Seongwoo’s ears. Smells of salt and sea filled his nose. He paced over to the railing of the foredeck, taking a brief pause. He watched the bobbing water dazedly. Glittering sunlight danced on the surface of the dark water, nearly blinding the Captain. The ocean touched the sky in a meeting of blues, one deep and the other vibrant and light. Few clouds even tarried the sky’s lapis purity.

 

“Are you excited?” Taeseob asked from behind the other. Seongwoo hopped slightly out of surprise. The other’s voice had so abruptly pronounced itself above the soft washing of water beneath the ship.

 

Am I? The Captain wondered. He supposed the most fitting way to describe his feelings was anxious. It had been so long and so much had happened - so many things he couldn’t have begun to predict. Long before putting any drastic plans into action, he’d have thought the Vengeance’s docking the end, a resolution. The idea of finishing his journey had always presented itself as a pillar of finality. He would dock. Things would finish. They would end there, and everyone would move on.

 

“I still have my reservations,” He spoke honestly. Surely the crew would hear no such thing from their captain, but Taeseob had known Seongwoo much longer. He could bear to hear the truth. Even if Seongwoo had fibbed, the other likely would have caught it. “Not about my decisions. I suppose… I suppose I suspect that there are still struggles on the horizon. I imagine things will not go smoothly without some sort of Godly intervention.” He tried to force out a chuckle.

 

Taeseob chuckled himself, joining the other on the railing, “You know nothing but struggle, of course you will anticipate difficulty.” He shrugged, “Of course it’s not going to be easy, but… Think about everyone here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the crew. Seongwoo did the same, nodding in affirmation.

 

“Things will be as the are meant to be. That I believe.”

 

“But you fear that God’s plan does not favor us?”

 

“Well, it’s as you said: I know nothing but struggle - at least in my most recent years. But,” Seongwoo shook his head, “I need to stop thinking in such ways. I am no longer trapped. I can command this ship and steer us on our path. I’m in control of everyone’s fate now.”

 

“You’re in control of your own fate,” Taeseob remarked pointedly. Just as Seongwoo opened his mouth to reply, a racket broke out in the distance.

 

_ “Squaawk!” “Squa-ww- squaawk!” “Squawk-squaawk!!” “Skraaaa-!” _

 

The Captain and First Mate narrowed their eyes. The din erupted above them. A cluster of shuffling silhouettes jostled frantically. Gulls flapped about in some sort of a panic, and both Taeseob and Seongwoo watched with wide-eyed shock. Among the commotion, one gull circled the others, almost as if routing them. The imposing avian’s wingspan nearly tripled that of the others. Finally, as if in some culmination of bird panic, the gulls scrambled, fleeing in a flurry of squawks. One gull remained, and Seongwoo realized that it wasn’t a gull at all.

 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Ong watched the looming form circle the foremast. Its wings stretched wide as it glided down toward the foredeck. Seongwoo’s eyes were fixed on the beast, watching it slowly descend the sky toward him. The Captain stepped forward and extended his arm. Nerves pricked his throat, but he labored to remain cool and steady. Creatures like that smelled fear, and he had no intention of watching one of his fingers fly away with the beast’s departure. 

 

It never failed to strike awe in Seongwoo just how effortless the falcon’s flight appeared. Its brown wings beat majestically, commanding the winds in its wake. Even more incredible to him was how such a creature could be trained - just as the one that approached him had been. The falcon’s wings beat quickly as it slowed its body. It lowered itself onto Captain Ong’s extended arm just about as gently as an avian predator could. Anxiety shot up in Seongwoo’s chest at the slight poking of its claws into his sleeve.

 

A few other crew members had taken notice of the creature, and while attempting to look busy, many watched. They all knew what it meant. Fixed around the creature’s neck was a small pouch. Seongwoo slowly extended his hand toward the falcon, terrified it would snap at any moment. Deftly, he extracted the contents of its package. He gave the creature a nod before lifting his arm, signaling that its job had been done. The falcon lifted itself into the air once more, and in minutes, its silhouette receded into the horizon.

 

Held between his fingers, Seongwoo fiddled with a letter. He glanced around, fully aware of his crew’s spectation. 

 

“Back to work!” The Captain barked. All within earshot quickly obliged. They scurried to pick back up their brooms and barrels, more eager than ever to go about their daily chores.

 

Seongwoo turned the letter over in his hands. Neatly folded on fresh paper, sealed in black wax. The embossment on the wax bore a depiction of a gargantuan snake coiling around a crescent moon. Beside the moon, seven little stars flecked the wax. After a few seconds of staring at the thing, Seongwoo slid his finger beneath the seal, breaking it. Taeseob stepped closer, looking over his Captain’s shoulder. 

 

Seongwoo’s heart pounded, and dread filled him. He’d expected it to happen, but it still felt too soon. He had anticipated having a much steadier grip on things when the time came. Unfortunately, the hourglass had flipped, and through it grains of sand ran quickly without consideration of his endeavors. Shakily, he withdrew the letter and began reading it:

 

“Captain Ong Seongwoo & First Mate Go Taeseob

 

The Council is to meet tomorrow on The Rock. Don’t mind the delays. Expect to discuss matters of strategy and delegation for our docking.

 

Your Admiral”

 

He exhaled loudly, biting his lip anxiously. The Captain did not believe for a second that “strategy” and “delegation” were the sole motive for meeting. They wanted to know about the prisoners. A lump formed in Seongwoo’s throat and it dropped weightily down his chest, settling in his stomach. 

 

“We’re expected on The Rock tomorrow,” Seongwoo said flatly. 

 

“I see,” Taeseob said. Even the typically cool First Mate betrayed his worry with the way he frowned. Despite his worry, he tried to soothe his Captain’s nerves, “You needn’t worry. They ought to be praising you after pulling off that insane operation!” He said, injecting confidence into his words.

 

“The operation that many vehemently opposed,” Seongwoo noted.

  
The First Mate shrugged, “Well, they can’t say much now that we’ve got everything, can they? Trust, they will be thrilled with you, Captain.”

 

“Perhaps with my execution but what of the… The prisoners themselves,” Seongwoo crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the floorboards as he pondered. “You don’t think they will- they will-”

 

“Calm yourself. You’ve not even set foot on The Rock yet you stress. We’ve taken the prisoners into our own hands, and I believe things are going well.”

 

“Are they?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Even with the-”

 

“Things are going well, sir. I cannot honestly state that they are meek angels, but… They are towing the line. That is all we need from them. Their attitudes will adjust in time.”

 

“O… Okay,” Seongwoo said with a nod. He didn’t manage to sound entirely convinced, but Taeseob paid it no mind. Reflecting on how quickly things were unfolding, Seongwoo came to a decision: it was time. Things were moving at a jarring rate, and if the prisoners were to learn things, he wanted them to be from him. Not from anybody else. 

 

“Well, I’m off to the Quartermaster,” Seongwoo stated with a clap. “Please make preparations for our meeting- I shall inform the Quartermaster of our leave. I understand I asked you to take head on the prisoners, but due to our upcoming meeting I shall meet with the Lieutenants for a briefing on their state.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Taeseob said.

 

“Need we discuss anymore business before parting?” Seongwoo asked, his eyebrows raised.

 

Taeseob shook his head, “Not that I recall. I’ve a few things to mind, nothing pressing.”

 

“Yes, yes. Taeseob I…” Seongwoo paused, eyeing the other nervously. He let out a sigh and, in a lower voice, spoke, “I think I must meet the prisoners- the other ones. They must reach a certain point of understanding the situation prior to our docking.”

 

The First Mate frowned, “I understand, sir. Please remember: you are not their prisoner anymore. You are the jailer. Do not let them use fear or manipulative tactics to sway your resolve.”

 

“Of course,” Seongwoo said. Despite the words he spoke, worry caused him to shudder internally. 

 

The two bid one another farewell, each splitting off to do their respective duties. Stubbornly, the dread from what was to come loomed over Seongwoo’s shoulder. He reminded himself of Taeseob’s words, repeating them in his mind continuously:

 

“You are not their prisoner anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Daniel stretched his body stumblingly. He winced at the dull pain that ran up and down his long limbs. Wood and hay gave the man no comfort to speak of. Combined with the heavy metal collar closed around his neck, his body had no chance for amenity. Even the act of breathing in caused his throat to sting, scratched by the dryness of it. The prisoner’s stomach alternated between dull discomforts and sharp, shredding ones. No matter how Daniel laid or sat, his body protested. Pains clawed and scraped at his insides, begging to be emaciated. They ran deep, staring at the surface of his bruised skin to the lining of his deprived stomach. Occasionally, loud buzzing would fill his ears, and he often found himself winded from simple movements.

 

The prisoner hoped it spelled a near end.

 

He’d spent his days dazedly. His state was comparable to that he’d found himself in prior to learning he was on a ship. Day and night were arbitrary, time didn’t exist. The only things Daniel knew were awake and asleep. He vaguely recalled having a dream or two, but their contents were lost to him. He felt certain that they weren’t worth remembering, anyway.

 

Sadness had long past the former King’s mental state. He no longer possessed the energy to feel such a thing. Despair, anger, and loss all proved too taxing. He merely felt tired. The sooner his body expired, the better - in his opinion. He tried desperately not to think of him. That man. The con artist he’d served his heart on a silver platter. Daniel didn’t dare let the name pass his thoughts. Occasionally, the man would sneak into the prisoner’s thoughts. His pretty, slender fingers would ghost across the prisoner’s fevered skin. All of the little nothings he’d whispered would drift back into the former King’s ears. His sweet tone nearly lulled the man to sleep. 

 

But none of it was real.

 

The stark reminder would smack the man in the face, violently rousing him from his daydreams.

 

_ “Creaaaaak.” _

 

The sound of an open door drew Daniel’s eyes to the entrance of his room. He sat up, and every extremity of his body wailed with complaint. Someone had come in daily with food for the prisoner, so the intrusion initially stirred no regard from the prisoner. Another waste of resources, he thought. For whatever reason, they had insisted on bringing him a variety of foods and drink. Daniel thought that after a few days, they would have stopped bothering. Apparently, they still hadn’t.

 

The prisoners eyes slowly rose to meet his jailer’s face, and they widened with recognition. It was the damned First Mate. Daniel still associated the man with the label “Holland”, but he knew the person had another name. It mattered little. He wondered why someone with such high rank had been sent to give him his meal for the day. Despite himself, Daniel couldn’t help but feel curiousity roll around in his chest. He felt immense shame that the sight of a mere underling ignited such interest in him. Still, despair stained the interest ever so slightly. The First Mate’s appearance ultimately brought more despondency than anything else.

 

_ “Creaaak- Clunk!” _

 

The First Mate shut the door behind him. He watched Daniel like a hawk. He dropped the basket he’d been holding on the ground and kicked it toward the other. Daniel eyed its contents. Per usual, it contained a small assortment of food. A sea biscuit, dried fruit, cured meats, and a bottle that he assumed to be water. Typically, Daniel would take a few sips of water; however, that was about as indulgent as his meals had been. He had no interest in nourishing his body. He didn’t see a point.

 

“Eat,” The man instructed coldly. 

 

Daniel looked up at the man indignantly. Their eyes locked, and despite his exhaustion, the former King mustered all the fierceness he could. Without moving his eyes, he reached for the bottle of water and uncorked it. He took a quick gulp before setting the bottle down with a loud thud.

 

“Done,” The prisoner said, his voice hoarse.

 

The First Mate narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased. Daniel wondered why he cared. What reason did they have to keep the former King alive?

 

“Adorable,” The man said, “Now, eat.” 

 

“I said, I’m done,” Daniel insisted.

 

“Apologies, I forgot to speak in a language you understand,” The blond replied facetiously. His voice dripping with satire, he added, “Would you kindly eat,  _ your highness _ ?” The remark stung Daniel sharply. 

 

“Fuck you,” The prisoner replied coolly.

 

The First Mate rolled his eyes. He took a few steps closer, squatting down so he could be more level with the prisoner. His face softened slightly, as did his tone.

 

“I’m sure you’re in pain. Your throat must be sore and your stomach? I imagine it’s near unbearable. Eat. Be well,” He looked at the prisoner earnestly. Daniel knew the man was full of shit. The visage of caring served to fuel his irritation even further. 

 

“No,” Daniel insisted. 

 

The First Mate’s mask of serenity dropped immediately. He went back to furrowing his brow annoyedly at the prisoner. A frown fixed on his lips, he lowered his voice to a snarl.

 

“Eat. Or else.”

 

“Or else what?” Daniel chuckled at that. He couldn’t help it; he found humor where he could. 

 

The blond quirked an eyebrow, “Not familiar with force-feeding, are you? Keep being a stubborn ass and I’d happily inform you.”

 

“Why do you give shit?” Daniel asked. “Why not let me rot in here? Surely the trouble can’t be worth the reward. I have nothing. Nothing!” His throat stung as he raised his voice, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t had anyone to vent his frustrations to. Yelling at the bastard First Mate proved rather cathartic, and he half believed that the words passed onto the man would be some of the last he spoke to another human. “You’ve taken everything away from me! Why not just let me die?!” The prisoner wished he had the strength to push the other away.

 

“You have no entitlement to an explanation. Perhaps I came down here because I thought it would be fun,” The blond said sarcastically. “It matters not. Whatever the reason, you must eat.”

 

“The hell it does not matter! It matters to me! I am tired of this- this sorry excuse for existence. I’ve no idea what you’ve done to my loved ones nor do I know the affairs of my Kingdom. If I truly have no hope of escape, why waste your time with me? Why not let me pass?”

 

“You sure are talkative for someone who wants to die.”

 

Daniel gritted his teeth, galled by the First Mate’s flippant nature, “I ask you this with my utmost sincerity. Please, stop this- all of this. Leave me alone. Just- just leave me alone. What matter is it to you if I live or not? Am I a hostage? Surely you can afford the loss on my head if you intend to sell me a slave. Why do you care?”

 

The blond stood up with a sigh. He scowled at the prisoner sitting beneath him, his voice dripping with reigned back anger.

 

“Make no mistake, I don’t give a shit what happens to you.”

 

“Then why are you here?” Daniel asked.

 

“I am not going to indulge you.”

 

“Then I am not going to eat. Try whatever methods you wish. I will purge the moment you close that door.”

 

_ “Shiing.”  _

 

The First Mate withdrew a dagger all of a sudden. The curve of its blade gleamed menacingly in the flickering lamplight. Daniel shrunk back into the wall, eyes wide. His heart raced, but he remained steadfast. Locking his eyes with the other’s. 

 

“I thought you wanted me alive,” The prisoner scoffed; his confidence was a complete ruse.

 

“Alive? Yes,” The blond leaned down again, extending the blade dangerously close to the prisoner’s chin. The dagger’s tip rested just barely on Daniel’s chin. Terror chilled the prisoner’s blood. “Unharmed? No.”

 

“You truly intend to threaten me into eating?” Daniel asked, hoping his tone didn’t betray his anxiety. Despite the pain raking down the back of his throat, he raised his voice, “Why the hell does it matter to you? Why can’t I just die!”

 

“You think it matters to me?” The blond asked, narrowing his eyes bitterly, “Do you really think I give a shit what happens to some spoiled, inept prick from the Kang fucking Kingdom?!” He laughed, and it sounded hollow and malignant. “I don’t give a shit about you.”

 

“Then why-”

 

“Because I know exactly why you’re doing this!” The First Mate’s voice echoed loudly in the tiny holding room. The Vengeance’s hull groaned as if complaining about the noise.

 

Daniel’s body shuddered; whether from nerves or exertion, he couldn’t determine. Stubbornly, his gaze remained fiercely locked with the blond’s as he spoke,“What does it matter to you if I die, then?”

 

“It doesn’t. Idiot. That’s what I just said. I would happily let you rot in here if I really thought you genuinely wanted to die.”

  
“I- What?!” Daniel’s face squashed into a look of utter and complete confusion.

 

“Please spare me your feigned ignorance. I know precisely why you’re behaving this way. You don’t want to die. If you really wanted to die, you’d have offed yourself by now. You would’ve jumped overboard days ago or sliced your neck with one of these bottles we’d left or you. But you didn’t.”

 

Daniel froze. He could neither move nor properly think. His mind frenzied itself in an attempt to combat the other’s words. He wanted so desperately to mount a protest, to fire back with a retort, but nothing came to him. Instead, he watched, dazed, a hollow forming in his chest.

 

“You’re not doing this because you want to die,” The blond said. “You’re doing this because you want to punish him.”

 

The words struck Daniel like lightning. Air ejected itself from his lungs, and his physical recoiling caused the dagger’s tip to dig into his chin slightly. He hardly noticed the warmth trickling down his chin. The First Mate’s words stunned him too much. Hot, wet tears welled up in Daniel’s eyes before he could stop them. He blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. No response could be mustered.

 

“That’s what I thought,” The First Mate growled. He withdrew his blade, sliding it back into its sheath. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you don’t despise him. Not completely. I imagine part of you still loves him, isn’t that right?”

 

Daniel kept his lips shut tight. He didn’t answer, just watched.

 

“Things like that don’t pass in a matter of weeks,” The blond mused aloud. “I’m sure some pathetic sliver of hope remains inside you. Deep down you think - or wish, or hope - that he loves you, too. Really loves you. You think: he wouldn’t let you starve if he cared. I bet you were secretly hoping to see him. You want him to see you in this sorry state- to hurt him. So that way he can hurt the way you do. Am I right?”

 

The prisoner silently seethed, infuriated by the blond’s spouting. He felt like his heart had been stomped beneath a boot; each word ground it further and further into the ground, deepening his despair.

 

“Awfully quiet now, aren’t we?” The blond’s voice took on an almost singsong tone which irked Daniel to his core. When no response came, the man shook his head angrily, “He doesn’t deserve this, you know. He didn’t deserve any of this. You kept him as a pet for months and he still treats you better than I’ve seen any prisoner treated before on this ship. Any other Captain would’ve made your corpse a decoration by now.”

 

“Lucky me,” Daniel finally managed a reply though his voice quivered. 

 

“You best not count on your luck for much longer. You’ve hurt my Captain enough, and if you continue to disobey, there will be consequences,” The First Mate looked down at the basket once again, adding emphatically, “Now  _ eat _ .” He wasted no time striding toward the door before shutting it loudly behind him.

 

“Slaam!”

 

Daniel flinched at the thunderous noise. The door had shut with so much force that the sound continued reverberating through the groaning walls for moments after. The prisoner eyed the basket of food and drink wearily. His stomach roiled, aching for just tiniest morsel of nourishment. Feeling tempted, his hand reached for the sea biscuit on top of everything. His hand grazed the crusty biscuit before quickly recoiling.

 

His mind replayed Holland’s words over and over again in his head. Something about them disinclined him from eating. Instead, the prisoner leaned back against the wall. He let his eyes flutter shut, ushering him into another restless, hazy sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Raise her!” Lieutenant Yua hollered up to Lieutenant Moko on the main deck. The sound of cranking soon groaned from the main deck.

 

The former General Park and Advisor Yoon hunched over on the dinghy they’d been ushered onto that morning. It never failed to amaze Jihoon just how taxing swimming truly was. He abhorred it. No amount of peppermint oil and ginger tea could soothe the sickness that swimming’s exertion passed onto Jihoon. The edges of his vision swam, and his body swayed slightly as the dinghy was hoisted out of the water.

 

Jisung sat across from Jihoon, equally as winded. He’d been quiet - and not merely in the verbal sense. Jihoon wasn’t sure precisely what had happened, but the old advisor no longer had bindings. Supposedly, he’d been “well behaved”. When Jihoon had first inquired about it, Jisung merely shrugged. Jihoon had insisted to the Lieutenants that he, too, had behaved well enough. Unfortunately, the supervising Lieutenants seemed to disagree. Apparently, pirates frowned upon being cursed at. And having things thrown at them. They also absolutely hated when their prisoners wiggled out of their ropes and tried to sneak around. For a lot that regularly drank heavily, Jihoon found them surprisingly alert. Though he had assured those who’d caught him that he intended on returning to his cell, it won him no merit with the Lieutenants. Sitting next to an untethered Jisung while being tied up made shame tint Jihoon’s cheeks pink.

 

“You two are pretty strong swimmers for landlubbers,” Lieutenant Miko said. “You’ll be ship shape in no time- at least, one of you will.” She tittered, looking pointedly at Jisung.

 

Jisung gleaned no pleasure from the compliment; it hardly meant a thing to be praised by their jailors. He merely responded with a grunt. Jihoon opted to ignore the obvious dig at his sour attitude. It didn’t particularly affect his mood either way. Even if it did, he felt too exhausted to combat it. The prisoner’s head dipped slightly, and his vision blurred.

 

“Jihoon!” Jisung grunted, smacking Jihoon. The younger man jolted up, eyes wide. “You can’t seriously be sleepy right now. We’ve spent the past two hours thrashing around in cold water.”

 

Jihoon frowned, shaking his head; he eyed the Lieutenants momentarily before replying, “In honesty, I’ve been unable to sleep.” He spoke in a low tone. 

 

Jisung furrowed his brows in puzzlement and leaned forward, “Unable to sleep? How?! Are you not worn from all this work?”

 

“On the contrary, I’m completely enervated, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

“The truth is,” Jihoon lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m being haunted.”

 

“You- what?”

 

“I’m being haunted.”

 

“You are being haunted?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jisung looked at the other with wide eyes, “God help us- you’ve gone mad.”

 

“Wh- I am not mad! I’m being haunted, I swear it!”

 

The dinghy slowly ambled toward the main deck as the two went back and forth.

 

“You swear it? Oh really? I’m to believe that you’re being followed by a specter of sorts now.”

 

“I know it sounds like lunacy, but it’s the truth.”

 

“Jihoon, please,” Jisung sighed, “The ship is loud- it’s always creaking and whining. Along with the dim light of the lower decks, it’s likely you’re just seeing and hearing things. That’s not to mention the dreadfully thin walls. I heard moans the other night and-”

 

“I am not hearing things!” Jihoon cut the other off. “I have seen things but, this spirit is not manifesting in sound. It is… It is a feeling.”

 

“It is a feeling…?”

 

“Yes, a feeling. A notion. Like- like I just feel eyes on me all the time. Sometimes, I swear it- it whispers in my ear. Not words, but- ideas. I can’t- I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I just- I just feel this thing watching me,” Jihoon wrung a hand through his hair. He’d never been one to believe in such things prior, but he could think of no other explanation. The shifty outline whose form was perpetually obscured by sunlight, the heavy feeling of another’s presence near him, their gaze on him - its presence pervaded Jihoon’s peripheral senses. Yet, whenever the prisoner tried to look at it or move closer, it disappeared like a mirage.

 

Jisung bowed his head down and muttered quietly. His hands folded in his lap. Jihoon squinted in confusion, initially unable to hear the other’s words over the crashing of the waves. The former advisor’s voice grew louder, and the other soon made out the utterances.

 

“...trust your love and provision for Jihoon is available and you are able to do so much more-”

 

“What are you doing?” Jihoon asked.

 

“I’m praying for you!” Jisung fired back.

 

“Wh- I do not need your prayers! I need sleep. Or answers.”

 

“I believe you need all the prayers I can give at the moment. Do you hear yourself? Who are you?! The Park Jihoon I know would never entertain such nonsensical ideas. Let alone contend that such ludicrous things were true!”

 

“The Park Jihoon you knew also wasn’t a prisoner on a pirate ship,” Jihoon fired back. He crossed his arms, his lips pouting. “The Yoon Jisung I knew was always eager to help his brothers in their time of need. Jisung, I am struggling and- and yes, perhaps I am going mad, but I can’t shake this insinuation. It makes me sick.”

 

Jisung pursed his lips momentarily, regarding the other. After a few seconds of consideration, he nodded in agreement. The two had clearly gone a long way from home, and bits of their old selves likely remained on the shore from which they’d pushed off.

 

“I apologize. You’re right. Even if it sounds absolutely mad, I ought to believe you. To be there for you,” Jisung extended a hand, giving Jihoon’s a reassuring squeeze. Looking down dejectly, the older man admitted, “I- I have had a few visions myself. No doubt they are illusions, cruel tricks played on my mind to fill the emptiness that’s formed. Perhaps you’ve been afflicted with the same sort of sickness.”

 

Jihoon tilted his head in interest, “Visions? So you understand what I mean?”

 

“Yes- well, perhaps. Sometimes I… I swear I, um,” Jisung looked away, “I swear I see my- my hu-conc-concubine. I swear I see my concubine and I, um- I hear him.”

 

“You mean your husband,” Jihoon said frankly.

 

Jisung’s eyes blew open in shock, and his mouth flapped open and closed. The younger man chuckled, giving the older a shrug.

 

“I’m a General- well, I was. Knowing castle affairs intimately was my duty. Of course, I suppose I failed toward the end, didn’t I?” His tone dropped, weighed down with regret.

 

“Don’t reflect on your shortcomings. There is nothing to be done now but to look forward. Or, at the very least, to try looking forward,” Jisung frowned.

 

“I cannot blame you for looking back. You and that man, you were married? I- I knew of it, but never gave it any thought,” Jihoon looked down at his hands, “Not any thought at all.” 

 

In hindsight, he felt peculiarly guilty for not knowing more about Jisung and his marriage. The man was a decade his senior, but he still felt a connection to him. He’d always been like an older brother - at least when they were younger. A small rift had formed between Jihoon and the others once he’d embarked on military duties, but he still cared deeply for all of those he’d grown up with. At least, he thought he did. Suddenly, he realized that his assertion didn’t ring as true as he’d have liked. He’d been aware that Jisung was married but never once mentioned it to the man’s face. He hadn’t even congratulated him. Of course, the thought had been preposterous upon his initial discovery, but even after years the two remained at one another’s side. Jihoon both admired and envied that. It wasn’t as if Jisung had rushed to tell him, either, but he wondered what would have happened if he’d approached the man about it. He’d worked so hard to protect Jisung and all the others he loved, but he’d hardly made time to genuinely know them.

 

Suddenly, it happened again. A shiver ran down Jihoon’s spine. His head whipped around, scanning the railing of the main deck. The dinghy rose with a slow crawl, giving little aid to the prisoner’s search. Just as Jihoon had expected, at the tip of the foredeck stood a figure. Tall and slender, obscured in shadow with the sun at its back.

 

“There,” Jihoon whispered, nudging Jisung. “Right there! There it is! Do you see it?!”

 

Jisung narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a better look. His gaze followed Jihoon’s finger. After a few seconds of searching, his face dropped, and he blinked rapidly.

 

“It’s gone,” Jisung remarked. Jihoon’s eyes widened, and he turned back around. A frown stretched across his lips when he glanced back toward the foredeck. The figure had, in fact, disappeared. His heart sunk slightly; the shadow’s disappearance did nothing to assuage his nerves.

 

“I promise it was there.”

  
“No- I- I know. I saw it, truly. It was tall. I think it was a he.”

 

Jihoon’s jaw dropped, and his lips started turning upward, “Wh- Really? You saw it?”

 

“Most certainly, it was a figure. A human figure. Someone is watching you, Jihoon. Or maybe watching us.”

 

“A-ha! See! I’m not mad,” Jihoon clapped. It sometimes amazed him the meager joys he could glean in his dire situation. 

 

“You think it’s that Captain of theirs?” Jisung asked.

 

“Hm. That seems a likely answer,” Jihoon looked back toward the foredeck. He and Jisung had worked primarily on the lower decks. They’d always been isolated and under strict supervision from the very well-armed Lieutenants. Consequently, they saw or heard nothing of the enigmatic Captain their jailors so reverently spoke of.

 

“What’s he want with us, you think?” Jisung asked.

 

The former general shrugged, “Hostages maybe. That’d be the only reason I could think to keep high ranking members of the enemy’s court alive.”

 

“If we’re hostages, why take us across the sea, though?” Jisung asked. “It’s all rather curious.” He pursed his lips, visibly flummoxed.

 

“Curious, indeed,” Jihoon agreed. 

 

Eventually, the dinghy reached the main deck once more. Stepping off of the thing still terrified Jihoon, but he did so with more ease than he had the first time. Guilt and anxiety still festered in his gut, but he tried not to let it vex him excessively. As Jisung had said: it was best to look forward. 

 

* * *

 

A sudden, swift force pulled at the collar of the young man leaning over the railing. He nearly choked, coughing and hacking in recovery. Turning on his heel, he prepared himself to shout at one of the deck boys playing pranks. He swiftly swallowed those words upon realizing the man he faced was no tricky deck boy. It was the captain.

 

“H-hello,” Guanlin said, grinning sheepishly.

 

Seongwoo crossed his arms and spoke sternly, “Having a look-see, are we?”

 

“W-well, the sea is awfully pretty, isn’t it? So- so blue and all that.”

 

“Mhm,” The Captain said. “And your admiration of the ocean has nothing to do with the people swimming in it, does it? Or ought I say, person?” His tone oozed facetiousness.

 

The younger man’s pupils flitted away shyly, “I… Um…” He hadn’t any idea how to respond.

 

Seongwoo sighed, and his tone softened, “Guanlin, you know what I told you-”

 

“I know, I know,” Guanlin nodded, pressing his lips together. “I know I… I can’t be seen by them yet.”

 

“Please know I do not mean to punish you by this. I just think this is for the best.”

 

The younger man shook his head, “No, I- You’re right. I shouldn’t see him now. It would confuse things.”

  
Seongwoo looked Guanlin up and down for a moment. He appeared to be assessing something. Once he’d finished with his discernment, he spoke again.

 

“Guanlin,” His voice sounded softer than before, more tender, “If you truly want to meet Jihoon again, I will allow it. However, I think it best you stay away. He is… In a different place right now, and so are you. You’re a free man, Guanlin. You owe him nothing, do you understand me?” Seongwoo’s eyes found Guanlin’s, and the Captain’s gaze bore into them intensely.

 

“Yes, Seongwoo- Captain! Captain Seongwoo,” Guanlin still hadn’t quite gotten used to it. He hadn’t gotten used to anything. Everything had happened so fast. Men in black cloaks had infested his bedchambers late at night, and Guanlin had thought that for certain he was to be killed. Instead, one had pulled down his hood, revealing a familiar face. Seongwoo hadn’t told Guanlin much in terms of details, only that it was in his best interest to go with him. He’d even assured the safety of the General.

 

Guanlin realized that, looking back, blindly trusting Seongwoo could have turned out disastrous. He’d hardly gotten over his entire strange ordeal with the man before the sudden upheaval had sprung itself upon him. He felt incredibly grateful that his trust hadn’t been misplaced. He’d ridden in a carriage with Sungwoon until reaching some docks. It wasn’t until boarding the ship that Guanlin had caught a glimpse of Jihoon, unconscious and tied up.

 

It had ended up being Sungwoon who’d explained to him the situation - at least, the meat of it. Seongwoo was the Captain of the ship they’d boarded. He’d been tasked with collecting the King and other royal officers. The older man had impressed upon the younger that if Seongwoo hadn’t brought him along, he’d have been auctioned off. After learning that, Guanlin had felt content not to question Seongwoo’s motives further. It wasn’t that he didn’t have questions, but he merely felt he owed the man his life. He supposed that his inquiries could wait until his rescuer saw fit to answer them. As ridiculous as Guanlin knew it to be, the fear of being thrown overboard remained ever-present.

 

Since boarding the Vengeance, Guanlin had fared well. Seongwoo promised him freedom - within reason. He had to contribute like everyone else on the ship, and he wasn’t to make contact with any of the men in captivity. The former concubine gave help wherever it was needed. He’d often found himself cleaning or helping the cooks by the bread oven. Whether it had been Seongwoo or Sungwoon, whoever had informed the crew of his presence described him only as an “unfortunate servant”. As far as Guanlin knew, nobody had been told of the nature of his servitude. He felt even more grateful for that; he had a hunch that the crew would regard him with contempt if they knew how intimately close he’d been with the others. Though it tired him, something about working with others - people who saw him as a person, not a concubine - gratified him. 

 

Even more fulfilling was how he’d been able to spend his spare time. He’d made a few friends on the ship and gotten to do things he’d never done before. He and a gunner named Hyunmin sparred on the main deck in the evenings. Another deckboy named Sunghyuk taught him a few card games. And drinking games. A lot of drinking games. Sometimes, he heard people comment on the “Kang prisoners” or the Kang Kingdom itself; those moments were a bit stranger. Guanlin typically laughed along, but occasionally he wished he could correct them. Still harboring an allegiance for the place made him feel silly.

 

“Guanlin,” Seongwoo’s voice roused the younger man’s attention. “Please speak honestly. Are you doing alright? The crew’s treating you well? Because I made it very clear that you are not one of our marks and if they-”

 

“Don’t worry,” Guanlin held up a hand, “I’m doing alright and the crew has been quite nice.”

 

Seongwoo chuckled wryly, “You’re taking this awfully well, you know. Are you sure you’re not angry with me? I promise I won’t make you walk the plank or anything. You just- You seem a bit too content, almost. Is it- is it bad of me to say that. It is not that I wish you to be miserable, I just- Are you okay?”

 

Guanlin laughed. Seongwoo clearly was more stressed about the entire thing than he. It humored him to see the other fuss so. He found it especially ironic considering it had been him who’d brought the younger one onto the ship. 

 

“Seongwoo,” He spoke more seriously this time, looking the other in the eye earnestly, “I am serious. I promise you: I’m alright. As you are aware, this is not my first time having my life uprooted.” Acknowledging it tore a small hole in Guanlin’s heart. 

 

For the longest time, he had looked the other way, regarding his fate as an inevitability that had been salvaged by General Park. It did not lend him comfort, necessarily, but he felt more like a whole person for accepting it. In lieu of where his life had gone, he felt no choice but to face everything. Everything he knew had been stripped away once more. The only option left was to rebuild, to become better.

 

“I see,” Seongwoo nodded. He frowned slightly, “You’re quite mature, you know that. You’ve a good head on your shoulders.”

 

Guanlin shrugged, grinning impishly, “I know.”

 

“Good,” The Captain replied. “And you also know that you need to stay out of their sight, so,” He gestured to the forecastle beneath them, “Go make yourself useful somewhere else.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” Guanlin groaned dramatically, making a show of trudging toward the steps. He’d given Seongwoo grief about spying on Jihoon, but the truth was: Guanlin wasn’t sure if he could even face the man. What was he to say? He supposed that telling Jihoon his true, genuine feelings would be a start.

  
Except, he didn’t even know what he felt for Jihoon anymore.

 

* * *

 

The lower decks of the Onyx Vengeance feel darker than the ocean’s depths. Without even the stray sunlight to illuminate the cracks, only flickering lamps provided wayfinding for the pirate Captain. In the stretches where lamplight couldn’t reach, only memory enabled Seongwoo to navigate the shadowy corridors. It had gone quiet in the guts of the ship. Only night lookouts remained awake, each posted dutifully at their spot on the main deck. Those who’d manage to stay up well into the night were likely drinking elsewhere. 

 

Nerves rolled around in the Captain’s stomach. They’d been bumping against his gut and ribcage all day. The sensation agonized him to the point of near physical illness. His heart pounded violently, jostling around and jumping into his throat. Taeseob had tried to comfort him multiple times. He’d reminded the Captain: “you are in charge”. However, Seongwoo knew that to not be entirely true. Yes, he commanded the ship. Yes, he made the rules and decided how they were to be enforced. He had power over every aspect of his ship’s running and his crew’s duties. Ong neglected to remind his First Mate of the most obvious fact of all:

 

That no amount of authority could command one’s emotions.

 

It wasn’t as if Seongwoo had any particular allegiance to the other prisoners. He’d gotten the impression that the Advisor looked on him with disdain. The General had extended a peace offering of sorts, but that hardly erased the months of animosity they’d thrown at one another. Secretly, Seongwoo knew he would quite enjoy lording the victory over Jihoon. Regardless, it was a frivolous consolation for the deep betrayal he’d executed. Knowing Jihoon to be the more difficult of the two, Seongwoo opted to see Yoon Jisung first. He hoped it would prime him for the much more volatile meeting to come.

 

A silhouette outlined itself against the dim light in the distance. Seongwoo nodded to it.

 

“Lieutenant,” He said.

 

Lieutenant Miko greeted him with a nod, “He’s awake, sir. Knows you’re coming and all.”

 

“Thank you,” Seongwoo’s hand touches the door’s handle. It stayed frozen in place for a few seconds, fixed on the cool, wrought metal. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the Lieutenant, “You’re free to go, Lieutenant.”

 

“S-sir, are you certain? If one tries to get too cute, I’d feel most comfortable being near. I don’t see why-”

 

“That’s an order,” He cut her off gruffly.

 

“Yes, Captain,” Miko answered. She strode off down the corridor. Seongwoo waited for her form to finally disappear before opening the door. He bit down on his lip roughly, tension gripping his lungs tightly as he entered the cell. Only a few seconds passed, but in those fleeting instants, he prepared himself. For what? He did not know, but he understood that the more the Kang prisoners knew, the further away his time at Castle Jeon became. Whatever ideas or preconceived notions they’d had about him would change, and they’d probably never trust him again. It wasn’t as if Seongwoo had been held in high regard prior, but he felt certain that their concessions regarding he and the former King would be ousted. When he closed the door behind him, Seongwoo put on the most composed facade he could muster.

 

“Hello, Advisor,” The Captain said cooly. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, chest ever so slightly forward, and head held high.

 

Jisung had been staring into his hands when the other had walked in. Though the Lieutenants had let him go free of bindings, they’d made sure he remained bound that night. It wasn’t until the Captain spoke that he stirred. He glanced at Seongwoo, and a veritable array of expressions passed his face. Initially, the former Advisor’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped, and his brows furrowed. Then, he squinted and leaned forward. His face scrunched as he studied the Captain closely. He leaned back, and his jaw went slack, held slightly ajar. His face fixed into something that looked a cross between shock and anger.

 

“What the hell is this?” Jisung said through gritted teeth.

 

“I am Captain Ong Seongwoo, and I command The Onyx Vengeance. I thought it right to pay you a visit in light of your good behavior. I imagine you’ve many questio-”

 

“I do. Where is the real Captain?”

 

“Wh-” Seongwoo’s jaw dropped. He scrambled to regain his composure, “I- I am the real Captain.”

 

“Am I really expected to believe the King’s favorite whore is the Captain of a massive pirate ship? Where is he- where are you?!” The prisoner yelled toward the door. Seongwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t anticipated the other’s disbelief. “What’s going on here?!”

 

Seongwoo decided it’d be less irritating to say what he’d intended. The prisoner reserved his own right to believe it or not; at the very least, Seongwoo could say he’d tried.

 

“I will say this one more time only,” Ong said, crossing his arms in front of him, “I am this ship’s Captain.”

 

“But- but- you’re the King’s-”

 

“Whore as you put it?” Seongwoo cut the other off, his tone clipped. “Yes, I did fill that role for a short time. Now I am here, back at my post.”

 

Jisung narrowed his eyes dubiously, and his voice dropped, “This was your doing.” Venom dripped from his voice. His gaze radiated the raging heat of ire.

 

Seongwoo shrugged, “I suppose it was. Of course, you must know, I did not act alone. I suppose you could describe this as a paid job.”

 

“With whom did you conspire? How- how did you-”

 

“You need not concern yourself with such details.”

 

“I believe I do! How can I not feel concern knowing that- that we’d been harboring a- a deceptive, thieving, treacherous bastard? We- we welcomed you. We let you live after you nearly destroyed the King’s relationship with one of his most important allies,” Abruptly, the prisoner’s expression changed once again. His eyes went wide, full of dread. “Sungwoon,” Was all he said.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Sungwoon- where is Sungwoon?” Tears began to fill the prisoner’s eyes, and Seongwoo started to feel guilt gnawing at him. He felt idiotic for expecting the meeting to go smoothly. “Is- is he safe?! What have you done to him? You two had gotten so close. It never occurred to me that- that- where is he?!”

 

“Sungwoon is safe,” Seongwoo said calmly. 

 

“And why the hell should I believe you?”

 

Seongwoo shrugged, “You can choose not to, if you wish, but will that lend you any comfort?”

 

“Are you telling me he is safe just to soothe me, then?”

 

“What incentive do I have to comfort you, Advisor? As I had my Lieutenant inform you: I thought it time to inform you of your situation. Doesn’t matter to me if you believe it or like it.”

 

Jisung’s shoulders sunk along with his eyes. He looked defeated. After a brief spell of silence, he broke the quiet with a conceded tone.

 

“I see,” The former Advisor said quietly. “Say what you must, then.”

 

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Seongwoo replied. “As I said, I am Captain Ong Seongwoo, commander of this vessel. You and the others are one of two things: you are either prisoners or members of this crew. You are not hostages. Nobody is looking for you, and there is no rescue mission in order. You’re ours now. I encourage you to continue behaving well. Trust it will benefit you in the future.”

 

Jisung merely watched on in silence, his eyes sliced sharp like daggers, “So I am sentenced to a life on this ship? Never knowing what became of my home? N-never seeing my- my Sungwoon again?”

 

“You make it sound so fatalistic.”

 

_ “Cluunk!” _

 

Jisung strained against his metal collar, lunging toward the Captain. Seongwoo calmly took a step back, and his lips turned downward slightly. Irritation began overtaking what once was nerves. It set roots deep in his chest, and they sprouted out rapidly until all he could feel was annoyance. 

 

“Why?!” Jisung demanded an answer. His hands shot to his collar, pawing at it feebly. “Why- why- why the hell are you doing this?! If not for a bounty then what- what the hell is this?! What is worth the-” He huffed, his throat straining against the wrought metal around his neck, “-the effort? Th- the struggle.” His face deepened into a dark shade of red, and Seongwoo feared the man would pass out at the rate with which he proceeded. “Why? Why? Why!?”

 

Seongwoo dipped a hand into his jacket. He assumed the question would come up, and he’d arranged to address it. Despite the Quartermaster’s insistent protest, he’d taken from the Kang inventory the very core of the entire ordeal. It felt so strange to Seongwoo. Months of planning and toil all amounted to something small enough to fit in one’s pocket.

 

“If you must know,” The Captain said, his voice almost melodic with chipperness, “I got a piece of paper!” He waved around the folded document with simulated giddiness.

 

The former Advisor halted his frenzy. His chest heaved as he labored to catch his breath, and he stared at the folded paper, dumbfounded.

 

“You- you- wha…?” Jisung muttered. He leaned as far forward as his tether would let him. “Wha… What is that?”

 

Seongwoo considered the other for a moment. He eyed the document in his hand, then looked back to the advisor. Despite the time that had passed, he felt strangely uncertain about sharing it. It wasn’t as if the contents of the document were some highly sought after secret. The prisoner certainly would gain little from seeing the acquisition, and it bore no consequence for the Captain to show such a thing. Regardless, hesitance lingered in his mind. The success of the operation still felt so fragile to him; he feared even something trifling would cause the entire thing to collapse like a house of cards. 

 

The Captain swallowed down his paranoia. He knew he had to show the prisoners what he’d done, if only to comfort himself. Doing so made it real; it showed them that he was not some spiteful monster, that he had a purpose. Sometimes, he needed to remind even himself of that fact.

 

Carefully, the Captain unfolded the paper. He extended it toward the prisoner, assuring it was out of the other’s reach. The dim light gave the older man little aid in reading the thing. His eyes squinted as he scanned the document. When he’d finished the meat of it, he murmured.

 

“The acquisition of Crescene…” Slowly, pieces began slotting into place for the former Advisor. He looked at Seongwoo again, this time regarding the Captain in a new light. It looked like surprise or awe - Seongwoo couldn’t tell. Jisung spoke, and though he faced Seongwoo, he seemed to be thinking aloud more than attempting discussion. “You’ve received the deed to Crescene… A whole territory. Rather small, but a brilliant position for trade in the sea. Large enough to sustain a decent population with terrain suitable for agriculture and infrastructure…” More and more started to make sense to the prisoner, and realization dawned visibly on his face. “You took us - all of us - and in return you received this. You did this for land. You really fucked an entire nation just so- just so you could have an island,” The man scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. As if his people didn’t regularly slaughter others with the same motive.

 

Seongwoo shook his head, “That’s not quite right, Advisor,” He said. He folded the deed back up, slipping it into his jacket. Tone more serious than ever, he informed the man:

 

“I did this so I could have home. So all of us could.”

  
With that, he paced back toward the door. The prisoner muttered after him; he spouted out protests and inquiries, along with a few curses. Seongwoo ignored them. He’d said what he wanted to say. Something about the meeting left a bad taste in the Captain’s mouth, but he hardly had time to ruminate on the fact. He had someone else to see.

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo strode down the corridor toward Jihoon’s place of holding. Once again, anxiety scratched at his throat and chest, but he ignored it. His encounter with the old Advisor left him feeling strangely unresolved. Though he knew it silly, part of him had thought speaking to the man would have been cathartic. Instead, he felt more wound up. After everything that had happened, the man had the nerve to still act like he had some moral high ground.

 

“We welcomed you,” Jisung had said. Welcomed? Seongwoo internally scoffed. They  _ captured  _ him. The man was lucky that Sungwoon had a kind soul. His husband’s good heart was one of the few things that kept Seongwoo sane in Castle Jeon, and now, that same heart kept the Captain from punching the prisoner in the face. He supposed it had been optimistic to believe the other would have some sort of perspective. He hadn’t expected any sort of accolade or warm greetings, but at least quiet or respect would have been an admirable start.

 

With frustration simmering his insides, Seongwoo felt strangely eager to see the General. He knew the man would take the news horribly. He counted on it. At the very least, going back and forth with the man could vent some steam. The two had done it more times than the Captain wanted to admit, and the thought of arguing with the fellow felt almost nostalgic. Anything to relieve the strange pressure mounting on his heart was welcome.

 

“Lieutenant,” Seongwoo said, nodding to Lieutenant Yua.

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

“He’s expecting me?”

 

“Yes, sir,” She said with a nod.

 

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” Seongwoo nodded to the Lieutenant. Yua took the order without question. She muttered a good night before walking off. Once again, Seongwoo watched until the Lieutenant’s form disappeared in the distance. When she had, he opened the door slowly. Nerves and annoyance fizzled up in his gut, neither one particularly prevailing. Seongwoo knew not what to expect, only that whatever was to come would likely involve a lot of cursing.

 

“General Park,” Seongwoo started off coolly, once again taking a confident, assured stance. “I am Ong Seongwoo, Captain o-”

 

“You!” Jihoon jumped toward the captain.

  
_ “Claank!!” _

 

His chain immediately went taught, the metal scraping and clinking in protest to being pulled. Jihoon clearly didn’t care. His eyes were wide, overflowing with a rage unmatched by anything Ong had seen before. The prisoner scratched at his collar frantically. His chest heaved, and his entire body shook with temper.

 

Seongwoo raised his eyebrows, “May I… Finish?” He asked facetiously. 

 

“Y-you,” Jihoon, said hoarsely. He alternated between catching his breath and pulling against his chain. The prisoner appeared confident that, with enough effort, he’d eventually break the binds. Seongwoo couldn’t help but find it amusing. He supposed he ought to feel guilty for his amusement at the General’s expense, but upon recalling to whom he was speaking, the guilt disappeared.

 

“Me?” Seongwoo pointed to himself.

 

“Y-you- you bastard-” (“Clink!” The chains clicked loudly between his words) “-I knew it. I knew it! I knew you were- you were-” (“Claang!”) “-were not who you said you were!”

 

“I’ve not even finished my introduction and yet you seem so sure to know who I am,” The Captain taunted the other.

 

“What- what is all of this? Hm?! What-” (“Claack!”) “-why have you taken us!?”

 

“You’re getting rather ahead of yourself, aren’t you General- oh, wait. Apologies, I’ve forgotten,” Seongwoo knew he oughtn’t be so transparent about his amusement, but he didn’t care enough to stop it. “You’re not a general, now are you?”

 

“I’ll kill you!” Jihoon seethed, lunging toward Seongwoo again. The Captain watched on - he almost pitied the man. Almost.

 

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Get us all on the same page,” Seongwoo muttered. He opted to ignore the string of curses spewing from the other’s mouth. “I am Captain Ong Seongwoo, commander of The Onyx Vengeance - that’s this ship. You, Park Jihoon, are our prisoner. With good behavior, you can be freed- promoted to crew member if you will-”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“-or you can rot in here. I don’t care. You are not a hostage. There will be no negotiations about getting you back to your Kingdom, and nobody is coming to look for you. I’ve come here to make you understand that. I suppose you have questions, and if you ask politely, maybe I will answer them.” Seongwoo looked down at the other. It felt good - too good - to look down and see Park Jihoon writhing against bindings.

 

“I knew it,” Jihoon boiled; his hands balled into tight fists. He yelled, his voice echoing loudly in the small room, “I  _ knew  _ it!”

 

“You knew… What?”

 

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted- I- I knew it! Fuck- I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I let you best me. You fucking snake-” (“Claaang!!”) Jihoon reached out, but his fingertips just missed Seongwoo’s legs. The prisoner hacked and coughed from the metal digging into his throat.

 

“You knew yet you neglected to inform anyone?” Seongwoo scoffed, “Spare me. I was closer to the King than you ever could be. You despised that. No doubt you were eager to suspect anything about me.”

 

Jihoon attempted a laugh, but it came out as a hoarse cough instead, “You give yourself too much credit. My instincts were what caused me to suspect you, and a few little discoveries, things started to make sense.”

 

“Oh, really?” Ong chuckled.

 

“You were always too clean, too pretty. A common villager certainly wouldn’t have your looks- or, more properly, your vanity-” Seongwoo rolled his eyes at that remark. Jihoon continued, “-you could read and write- Guanlin raved about your help with his studies. Even showed me some of his letters that you’d corrected. Very neat writing for a peasant.”

 

“Perhaps I’d written a lot of letters in my time,” Seongwoo shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“Really? And I suppose a peasant from a landlocked village learned how to swim in torrential currents- in his spare time, of course,” Jihoon narrowed his eyes. “And after that whole ordeal you had barely a scratch on you.”

 

“You really think I was behind those bandits?” Seongwoo’s brows furrowed. He’d happily lord his deceptions over the General, but he certainly wasn’t going to take credit for wrongdoings he hadn’t even committed. “You think I enjoyed being cooped up in that pile of sticks? I nursed your King back to health, mind you.”

 

“Which no doubt deepened his affections for you- something you eagerly dangled in front of my face when it most benefited you.”

 

“Was it not you who implied you’d hurt your innocent concubine just to wound me? Please, General- Jihoon. I can call you that now, you know. I can call you whatever the hell I want, but I digress. Please,  _ Jihoon _ , spare yourself this humiliation. Can we not simply admit that I bested you?”

 

The prisoner exhaled loudly, shaking his head, “You halfwit. Did you think I wouldn’t notice when you ripped the pages out of the ledger-”

 

Seongwoo’s smug expression faltered slightly, “The ledger?”

 

“Yes, you imbecile. The ledger documenting the takeover of Crescene- that is where you are from, I take it?”

 

The Captain stayed silent for a moment. He hadn’t expected the other to catch onto that fact. In truth, he had ripped a few pages out of that ledger in his rage. Only a couple were missing, and only a single ledger had its pages torn. Seongwoo conceded that, in hindsight, it was messy. The entire episode inside the cellar had been acrimonious. However, never had he expected the General to pick up on such a small detail. He hadn’t even thought the man would return to that place prior to the operation.

 

“Ah, there it is,” Jihoon’s tone sweetened. It sounded satisfied, entirely too much for the Captain’s liking. “The knowing look of recognition in your eyes, the realization that you are, in fact, not a genius.” He chuckled wryly. “Guanlin liked you, so it made sense that you’d have been brought down there at some point or another. I suppose it was my mistake for not telling him to keep the place a secret, but… Well, really, you fucked it up quite early on, didn’t you?”

 

“Oh?” Seongwoo said indignantly, “Did I?” He found it ridiculous the other would assert such a thing given his position.

 

“One of the first things you told me, Captain, was your name. Ong Seongwoo. While it was against my honor code to address a conniving harlot by their name, it had always stuck with me. Ong Seongwoo. Ong. Funny name, that. Even funnier when - in the Crescene ledgers - the only pages missing were those concerning the forces and connections under one person’s authority. Naval Commander Ong Seonghyeok. Your father, I assume?”

 

Seongwoo didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to. He remained tight-lipped, communicating only with his wroth gaze. Jihoon fed on the Captain’s vexation, and a little grin began tickling the edges of his lips. He quirked an eyebrow, further prodding the older man.

 

“Oh- in case you were wondering: mama and papa died. I suppose you already knew that- looking at the ledger and all, but just in case. The notes say you were killed, too, but clearly, that’s not accurate. Just wanted to assure you,” Jihoon leered at Seongwoo, “That the documentation officer did not lapse on that particular detail.”

 

Seongwoo rolled his eyes, trying not to let his voice quiver “I haven’t seen my parents for over a decade. Do you truly wish to stir me with what I already know-”

 

“Your mother was killed first- that I recall from, um, oh… One of my supervising sergeants had been on that mission. Yes, she was tied up- along with your papa, too-”

 

“You seem to misunderstand the situation you are in,” Seongwoo said. Anger and anguish mixed in his gut. The mass melded and toiled, sickening him to his core. His voice raised steadily,“You are my prisoner-”

 

“-yes, but she was beaten in front of him. They wanted answers, I believe. Oh- my poor sergeant was rather scarred by the ordeal. It had been one of the first times he had to torture somebody-”

 

“-and I have the power to decide your fate. You best speak very carefully-”   
  


“-there are some differing accounts of how she’d been tortured. Some say that they pulled off her fingernails one by one-”

 

“-lest you seal a most heinous fate for yourself.”

 

“-though, I swore I’d heard someone else say they broke her limbs one by o-”

 

“Enough!” The Captain swiftly drew his sword, holding the tip of the blade to Jihoon’s face. The former General’s eyes widened, and finally, his mouth shut. With the prisoner’s attention, Seongwoo spoke once more, “Enough,” He tried to sound more calm, though he felt liable to retch, cry, or strangle the man. Or all three. The bubble of disconsolateness had swelled to such a size that it nearly suffocated him. He did not merely desire for it to stop, he needed it to. The Captain felt on the brink of a fit.

 

Laboring to steady his voice, Seongwoo regarded the wretched prisoner, “No amount of babbling will change reality. I am here, on my ship, and you are chained to it, my prisoner.” He sheathed his sword, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Even if you were privy to my plan or my identity, you clearly did not accomplish your goal of thwarting it.” He feigned a sigh, painting over his anxiety with projected poise. “I almost pity you. Pathetically trying to elevate yourself by lording an ill-founded intellectual victory over me. How sad. Now, because I am feeling particularly generous, I will entertain a few questions if you have them. I, more than anyone, understand how disorienting it can be to be taken captive and trapped somewhere unfamiliar.”

 

Jihoon silently stared daggers at the Captain. A few moments passed by with only the sound of the rocking ship to fill the space. Seongwoo waited patiently. Though he fantasized about some glorious admission of defeat, he knew it wasn’t happening. Part of him felt content to watch the other squirm. Obviously, Jihoon still had many things to say. There were probably numerous curses and synonyms for the word “whore” buzzing about in his head. Prudently, the prisoner picked his words more carefully when he did choose to speak.

 

“You cared for Guanlin, didn’t you?” Jihoon asked. His voice sounded soft, almost a whisper.

 

The inquiry took Seongwoo by surprise, and it took him a few seconds of processing before he answered, “Yes. Yes, I do.” He dropped his facetious exterior, responding with sincerity.

 

“Do you?” Jihoon’s gaze met Seongwoo’s again. The prisoner’s eyes looked wet. “Do you really?”

 

“He is- was genuinely like a brother to me.”

 

“Is that so? Because you’ve damned him, you know that?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve damned him! He’s all alone now, you idiot,” The prisoner’s turbulent emotions shifted once more. He sounded angry, but more than that, he sounded devastated. His voice trembled as he continued, “You’ve left him there to get- to get auctioned off-”

 

“How dare you put Guanlin’s fate on me,” Seongwoo fired back. “It is not my fault you did not add a freedom clause or whatever the hell to his damn contract.”

 

“I never intended on leaving his side.”

 

“You suffocated that poor boy. He’s better off now than he was with you.”

 

“How dare you!”

 

_ “Claaang!!” _

 

Jihoon coughed from the pressure against his throat. Tears began dripping down his cheeks, but his eyes still held onto their ferocity.

 

“You’ve ruined everything, and for what? For  _ what _ ?!” The echoes of his cries distorted into a screech. The sound made Seongwoo’s ears ring. 

 

Just as he had with Jisung, Seongwoo withdrew the deed to Crescene from his jacket. He unfurled the document with care, holding it up toward the prisoner. Jihoon gave the document a quick glance, and in mere moments his face went slack.

 

“You got your island back,” The words dropped from the stunned prisoner’s lips. “You got your fucking island back- how did you? Who did you-”

 

“I thought you had it all figured out,” The Captain chaffed.

 

Jihoon shook his head, “All of this… All for a fucking rock in the sea?”

 

“That ‘rock’ used to be home to many, many people. Soon, it will be again.”

 

“Unbelievable,” The prisoner scorned, “The shit you did to us- all of the shit you did to Daniel. How do you live with yourself?”

 

The mere mention of the King’s name cut into Seongwoo like a sword. The blade plunged straight into his heart, and pain radiated from the point of impact. The Captain’s hands clenched into fists, and he shuddered. Intrusive images of his last encounter with the man overtook his head. His pathetic, hazed state, the desperate utterances of love, the tears falling down his cheeks. All too well, the Captain remembered his prisoner’s anguished words: “I love you with all my heart.” 

 

It hurt. It hurt Seongwoo so profoundly, he couldn’t think of how to cope. Just the sound of his name dragged Seongwoo back to that place and time, back to the forecastle when he had to denounce his love for the other.

 

When he had to denounce the truth.

 

“I believe you ought to ask yourself that question,” Seongwoo said. He put all of his effort toward keeping his voice straight. Determinedly, he locked his gaze with the other’s. “After all, you were the one who brought me straight to him.”

 

Jihoon’s furious expression crumbled; his eyes went wide and his jaw slack, “Wh- No-”

 

“I never intended on being a concubine. Ever. I’d just planned to be a servant,” Seongwoo continued. Words were his best bandage for the wounds Jihoon had reopened. The Captain applied them heavily, speaking until his mind’s noise dulled, “I was to go willingly with your military. Then I would be a common worker in the castle. There was a contact in place and everything. The operation had actually been estimated to take much longer- you know, so I could ascend the ranks a bit. Get closer to the King.” He bore his eyes into Jihoon’s.

 

“But-”

 

“However, you had different plans, didn’t you?” Seongwoo let out a chuckle. It was hollow, but he didn’t care so long as it antagonized the other. Judging by the look of devastation on the prisoner’s face, it had worked. “You just had to be his majesty’s golden boy, didn’t you? Bringing him a trinket of sorts wasn’t good enough, and you knew his reputation had been slipping due to a perceived lack of maturity. So, what do you do? You decide to bring him a concubine - me, that is.”

 

“You crafty-”

 

“So, I suppose I have been disingenuous to you, Jihoon,” Seongwoo taunted in a dramatically singsong voice, “Here I was, prepared to slave away in the guts of Castle Jeon, slowly crawling closer to his majesty- close enough to know his affairs and his weaknesses. Then in comes  _ General Park _ -”

 

“I didn’t think-”

 

Seongwoo smirked, “You didn’t think, did you? No,” He felt like he’d finally regained the upper hand, and he made no hesitation to drive his point deep into the other’s skull. “What you did was deliver me straight to my mark, placing me closer to the King than even  _ you  _ could get. I was served up to that man on a silver platter- dressed in pretty little ribbons, no less. And who is responsible for that?”

 

“You’re wrong. I- I didn’t-”

 

“That’s right, General! You!” Seongwoo dramatically put his hand over his heart, “So, truly I must sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you, Park Jihoon, for giving me the best possible access to my target, and for being too blind to figure it all out,” The Captain leaned in, his voice steeped in pure venom and hate. With a malignant smile across his face, Seongwoo added, “Have fun living with that.”

 

The Captain didn’t say another word. He simply walked off, closing the prisoner’s door behind him with a slam. The moment he crossed the threshold into the dark corridor, his smile fell. Antagonizing the General had been fun in the moment, but the sensation rapidly passed. All he could think about was what the prisoner had said to him. 

 

“All of the shit you did to Daniel…”

 

Those words haunted Seongwoo. They stamped themselves on his mind and whispered in his ears. The impression left on his heart felt like a hollow, like part of it had been carved out. Seongwoo ascended a set of creaky stairs. He greatly looked forward to the company of his bed and a bottle of rum.


	6. Reuniting

Eunji stared at the brocade pillow dubiously. She’d fluffed it half a dozen times, yet it still didn’t quite sit right. She squinted at the woven textile of green and gold, reaching out to fluff the corners ever so slightly. Considering the cushion again, it still didn’t quite look to be the proper shape in her opinion. The finely crafted pillow seemed to stare back at her. Its enduringly bulbous form taunted her. With all the madness flooding the castle, she knew she ought to focus on more important things.

 

Prince Daehwi's coronation was days away, and Kang nobility of all ranks had been arriving in droves. They came in waves, not unlike the plagues fabled in the bible. Throngs of folks adorned in fine silks and ribbons arrived one after the other. Castle Jeon had hundreds of rooms, but Eunji predicted that they would soon have to turn people away if people proceeded to storm the place. She supposed she ought to feel grateful for the distraction. With more and more work being heaped upon her shoulders, she had adequate excuse not to stew in anxiety.

 

Excuse, however, did not manifest in actualization.

 

Nerves still needled her just as much as they had since the dreadful last day of the festival. She still kept Seongwoo’s letter close in her bustier like a precious heirloom. Her ears remained keen should a noble let some interesting information slip. She knew she oughtn’t attempt to treat noble affairs like some puzzle, but she could not rest. Eunji hadn’t a clue what, precisely, she aimed to gain from her knowledge. No plan of action existed for when she acquired the answers to the court mystery. She hoped she would gain peace of mind; yet, even that seemed a shaky possibility.

 

“Miss Eunji!” A voice snapped her from her daze.

 

“Ah- Hayoung, what is it?” Eunji asked, trying to sound engaged.

 

Hayoung crossed her arms and sighed, “You’ve done nothing but stare at that pillow for the past half hour. It’s been adjusted twenty times by now. I- I know I am not your senior, but please, entertain my request that you move on.”

 

Eunji’s shoulders went slack and she nodded, “You’re quite right. It’s fine, I shall leave it. The nobles who inhabit this room will only ruin it, anyway.”

 

“Miss, are you alright?” Hayoung asked, an expression of concern falling upon her features.

 

“Wh- Where ever does that question come from?”

 

Hayoung’s look of concern faltered into flat irritation, “Miss you know exactly where it comes from.”

 

Damn, Eunji thought, no fooling her girls anymore. She never thought the day would come.

 

“This is about the… The thing, isn’t it?”

 

“The- the thing?”

 

“The… You know what I mean! The… Prince and- and-”

 

“Yes- yes, of course. Of course, I knew that,” Eunji chided herself for being so obtuse. She’d truly lost her sharpness it seemed.

 

“Miss, you know I will persistently dog you until you speak. So, why not skip that process and tell me: what is going on? Have you learned something else?” Hayoung questioned, “I feel as if you know something that we do not. Despite divulging in us your thoughts, you still seem so… So weighed down. So burdened.”

 

“Well- perhaps… Perhaps I have not told you girls everything I know,” Eunji said, her pupils fleeing away. Hayoung and Namjoo looked at her, a mixture of confusion and worry.

 

“Miss Eunji, I implore that you tell us,” Hayoung said insistently. “We told you: we will be by your side to help in this. Prince Daehwi’s coronation is already on the horizon and approaching fast. If he is crowned King, what will lay in store for us? For this Kingdom?”

 

“He is to be coronated, that we cannot stop, but…” Eunji nibbled on her lower lip. She glanced down at her bustier and hesitantly withdrew the worn letter. “Well, I suppose this ought to be a place to start. I apologize girls, I promised honestly but did not fulfill that promise.” She passed the paper over to Namjoo and Hayoung who eyed it with interest. The two scanned the note, and the head maid continued speaking. “You see- I did not merely suspect foul play caused the King’s death. I knew it did.”

 

Hayoung gasped, turning the shade of alabaster. Namjoo’s hand shot to cover her mouth. Their eyes pored through the words scribbled on the paper repeatedly. When they finally had their fill, they passed it back to Eunji, who put it back in its spot for safe keeping.

 

“How could you keep this from us?” “Does this mean Seongwoo is alive?!” The two spoke at once. They exchanged glances, non verbally agreeing to take turns.

 

“Miss Eunji, is this- how-” Hayoung searched for words to properly inquire, “When did you receive this? What is this?”

 

Eunji sighed. Though the three maids were the only one present in the bedchambers, she glanced around. Only when she felt certain nobody would overhear did the head maid speak.

 

“I received this at the Harvest Festival, on the last day,” Eunji spoke lowly. Her gaze impressed upon the girls the importance of confidence. “Seongwoo had left express instructions that I not open it until after the festival.”

 

“You mean until… Until after his majesty disappeared,” Hayoung commented. Eunji nodded grimly.

 

“So it seems. He admitted in taking part in a ‘heinous act’ with ‘someone in the castle’,” Namjoo added. She stroked her chin in contemplation. “Someone in the castle…” Wringing a hand through her hair, the maid groaned, “That’s far too vague! Both the Baes and Prince Daehwi are in the castle.”

 

“Yes, they are,” Eunji said. “As are many others who would have taken pleasure in the downfall of King Daniel. He wasn’t a man of many enemies, but I’ve always heard whisperings of nobles discontent with his ways.”

 

“Miss Eunji…” Hayoung remarked, “You say ‘heinous deed’ - as does the letter, but… It does not explicitly denote death.”

 

“It does not explicitly denote anything!” Namjoo huffed.

 

The head maid nodded, “I caught on as well. I do not think Seongwoo to be a killer. Call it a baseless instinct, but I believe they are both alive: the King and the concubine. Well- former concubine, I suppose.”

 

“Forgive my forthrightness, Miss, but what makes you so sure?! Clearly, we don’t know this man nearly as well as we thought!”

 

Eunji responded first and foremost with a light smack on the head to her junior. She looked down at the girl sternly, chiding her.

 

“Use your head, girl! What possible incentive would someone have to gain the favor of a maid? Why would he write this with the intention of deception? Perhaps I would believe the story of bandits had it not been for this letter.”

 

“You’re right,” Namjoo conceded. “Still… Do you think,” She hesitated to utter her thoughts, “Do you think Seongwoo would have told us if he had killed King Daniel? Heinous deed connotes enough, does it not? Are you sure it is not merely hope that causes you to suspect the King’s life?”

 

Eunji shook her head, “I don’t think Seongwoo could have. He wouldn’t have let it happen to King Daniel, he… He cared for him too much.”

 

Hayoung interjected, “If he had done this in conspiracy with another party, then perhaps he had no choice.”

 

“It hardly matters,” Namjoo said, “Whether King Daniel lives or not is hardly relevant. What matters is that Seongwoo is alive and- and that someone in the castle has committed treachery! Prince Daehwi’s coronation is soon,” She clenched a fist, “I hope that treacherous little snake gets a harsh judgment from God-”

 

“Prince Daehwi?” Hayoung laughed, “That boy? Meek as a lamb, he is. If anyone, I imagine this is some plot by those Bae people. Things have been upside down ever since they arrived. I pray they depart quickly after this coronation.”

 

Eunji sighed, giving the girls another nervous expression, “Well, there is one other thing I have yet to mention.”

 

“What?” “What is it?”

 

“I am surprised that it hasn’t spread more yet. I suppose the others do not suspect as I do, but…”

 

“But what?!” “But…?”

 

“That dinner that I served for Prince Daehwi a few days ago. It was no mere diplomatic gesture. He asked for Queen Irene’s blessing. He intends to wed her brother, Prince Jinyoung. The announcement is to be made after the coronation ceremony.”

 

“Hm,” Namjoo grunted. 

 

Hayoung’s brow furrowed in thought, “It’s all fallen quite nicely into place then, hasn’t it?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Eunji replied. “King Daniel is gone, allowing Prince Daehwi to ascend to King. Queen Irene’s brother - the Bae prince - marries into the continent’s most powerful nation.”

 

“All the while, Queen Irene keeps her throne and her sovereignty,” Namjoo added. 

 

“And Prince- soon to be King Daehwi has all the resources of the Bae Empire at his disposal- and Queen Irene the reverse…”

 

“I see what you mean, Miss Eunji,” Hayoung said, a frown crossing her lips. “It is most unsettling, isn’t it? Just how neatly things have fallen into place…”

 

“So you see what troubles me,” Eunji said. “But there is not an ounce of proof to even imply foul play. There is no way to know if any of this was- was planned or conspiracy. Only the letter of a missing concubine and some hearsay.” She took a handful of hair, shaking her head, “I just- if we could hear or know something. Something definitive. Some- some way to reverse this, to bring King Daniel back- or at least Seongwoo...”

 

Hayoung crossed the distance to Eunji, and Namjoo followed. Each one took their senior’s hand, holding it to instill reassurance.

 

“We will find a way to make things right,” Hayoung said firmly. “I don’t know how, but- but we will.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gulls sung above the Vengeance jovially. They drifted carelessly, in search of food or perhaps bluer skies. Sungwoon couldn’t tell, he’d never had any particular association with the creatures. That had changed.

  
_ Everything  _ had changed.

 

Sungwoon tried not to reflect on it too heavily. When he did think about it, the entire thing felt too daunting. It hung from him like a heavy weight; it threatened to sink him into the depths of the sea on which they sailed. He had truly uprooted his entire existence to board The Onyx Vengeance. He did not regret it in the least, but his lack of remorse didn’t prevent his mind from drifting back to Castle Jeon. Stubbornly, he shook the thoughts from his head. He had decided that the extent of his contemplation went simply: he had made his bed and he intended to lie in it. Looking back would change nothing. 

 

Occasionally, hubris would pop in. It would tell him that maybe, had he been more sharp, more cunning, he could have prevented the entire thing. As if it would have been that easy. While he fantasized about things going differently, they hadn’t.

 

“There you are,” A voice cropped up behind him.

 

Sungwoon raised his eyebrows, “Seong- er, Captain. What can I do for you?” Seongwoo had been kind enough to assign tasks to the former concubine. The older man often found himself aiding the Quartermaster and occasionally the cooks in the galley. After a few days of seagazing, Sungwoon had gone nearly mad. While he felt like the tasks doled out were merely placating consolations, he hardly saw reason to reject them. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do or anywhere else to go.

 

“I need you to follow me,” Seongwoo said. He gestured toward the forecastle at the front of the ship.

 

“What for?” Sungwoon asked, following the Captain across the main deck.

 

“You’ll see,” Was all the Captain replied.

 

The two entered the forecastle study, and Ong shut the door behind himself. Inside the contained deck, the Vengeance’s black hull creaked and groaned. The crashing waves muffled, and a few of the curtains had been drawn. Sungwoon welcomed the intermission from the noise of the main deck.

 

“Sungwoon, how are you feeling?” Seongwoo asked, sincerity in his voice. He looked concerned.

 

Sungwoon’s calm expression faltered. The Captain’s question was a loaded one. He wasn’t sure he could even put his feelings into words.

 

“I am… Alright, I suppose,” He responded. A frown ghosted on his lips, but he tried not to show it.

 

Seongwoo nodded, “Adjusting well enough?”

 

“You tell me,” The older man shrugged, “Your crew is amicable enough, I suppose. Though they do seem under the impression that my husband was my slave owner. Your doing, I suppose?” He quirked an eyebrow.

 

Guilt crossed the Captain’s face, “It was easier that way. I- I apologize, I know it is far from ideal. I just- things were chaotic, and I wanted my crew to be kind to you. If they suspect any sort of allegiance to the Kingdom, no order of mine can guarantee your safety.”

 

“I understand,” Sungwoon said flatly. “It cannot be helped. Nothing can, I suppose…” Not even the expression of dismay on his face could be helped. He wanted to appear strong, to not rock the boat so to speak, but his emotions betrayed him.

 

“Sungwoon,” The Captain frowned. He stepped closer to the former concubine and extended a hand toward his shoulder. After a moment, he recoiled it, apparently deciding it best not to touch the other. “Look, I- I did not want to tell you this now, but… I- God this probably sounds tasteless-”

 

“What? What is it?” Sungwoon demanded.

 

“I…” Captain Ong struggled to find words for a moment. After deciding on them, he proceeded, “I understand more than anyone how devastating having your life uprooted can be. You have already been unbelievably gracious to me in- in speaking to me. In not hating me.”

 

“You did what you had to.”

 

“Right. And you followed your husband loyally. I suppose I…”

 

“Please, Seongwoo-  _ Captain _ . Be out with it.”

 

The Captain looked Sungwoon in the eye, moving forward with new fortitude, “When we are to dock at Crescene, our intention is to settle once more. My people will have a new home and now  _ you  _ are one of my people. You and your husband.”

 

“We are not free people. We are outsiders,” Sungwoon shook his head in protest.

 

“Maybe now, but trust me. Soon everyone on this ship will forget all about where you’ve come from. When we get to Crescene, we will be building a new home for  _ everyone _ . Perhaps it will take time, and I cannot promise it will be easy or clean. The luxuries of Castle Jeon will not exist for you, but this I can promise: you and Jisung will be free men of equal standing.”

 

Sungwoon’s face went slack for a moment. The words smacked him across the face, waking him up to a starkly different reality.

 

Ong continued, “There will be an opportunity to do what you want, to build the life you want  _ with him _ . Do you understand me?”

 

“But- but he is a prisoner-”

 

“Not for long. Jisung has been contributing and behaving well. We’re going to need all the hands we can get when we return to the island. We’ve no idea what state it’s been left in, but odds are there will be much to do and build and establish. You and Jisung are both clever. My people and I, we may be prideful, but we’re no fools. It would be a waste to force either one of you to rot in a cell.”

 

“No,” Sungwoon shook his head. “You’re promising too much. You- you make it sound as if it is going to be some utopia. As if Jisung and I can just- can just-”

 

“Start over?” Seongwoo completed the thought.

 

It was too late. All sense and logic flushed out of Sungwoon’s mind. The seed of hope had been planted, and he knew damn well it would stubbornly take root. It sounded too good to be true; he and Jisung side by side, open and loving husbands, living a life they’d built together. No, Sungwoon thought. It was too late for that. They were too old. They’d done too much wrong, had too many arguments. He tried to talk himself down from the high of dreaming, but he couldn’t.

 

“Wait here,” The Captain instructed quietly.

 

“Wh-”

 

“I said, wait here. I’m serious, don’t move,” The Captain said. With that, he stepped out of the door, leaving Sungwoon alone.

 

The older man could no longer remain composed. He leaned on the nearest wall, his head drowning in visions of a fantastical life. He and Jisung having the same footing, living a simple, wholesome life. Sungwoon still knew his way around accounting books, and the Quartermaster liked him for aid (he was one of the few on the ship educated enough to help him). Jisung had many skills and knew much. Would they take up trades? Run a shop together? They could farm, but Sungwoon thought it unsuitable for them. The Captain had even mentioned putting their knowledge to use - would the ruling bodies of the island utilize their more specialized knowledge? Everything flooded Sungwoon’s head, nearly overwhelming him. The idea of such an idyllic life caused tears to sting his eyes. 

 

He yearned to distract himself, to stop himself from getting too deep. Hastily, Sungwoon crossed over to the windows. He fixed his eyes on the horizon. The sea ebbed and flowed rhythmically. Waves hit the Vengeance’s hull with a soft, soothing crashing noise. The former concubine tried to emulate that sense of calm, trying to match his breathing with the wave’s pace.

 

_ “Creaak.” _

 

The door opened behind Sungwoon slowly, almost hesitantly. Though he knew he ought to regard the person, he struggled to tear his eyes away from the view. It looked so peaceful out there. The sea moved, willed gently by God’s hand. It had no need to care for man’s whims or desires. Did it have its own agenda? Sometimes, Sungwoon wondered. Why did it move in such a way?

 

Finally, he turned toward the door, “Did you forget something Seongw…” The thought came to a halt. Emotion crashed down onto him with tremendous force. Surely, his body would have teetered over had it not been for the wood frame of the ship. He blinked rapidly, hoping that the tears in his eyes were not deceiving his vision. “My love?”

 

Jisung stood at the door, dazed. His chest heaved with a breath yet untaken, and his lips traced words - though not a sound came out. Tears fell before he could utter anything. Slowly, the former advisor hobbled over to his husband.

 

He stretched his arms out, finally murmuring, “Sungwoon?”

 

Sungwoon did not hesitate to lunge toward the other. He sprung off the Vengeance’s hull, closing the distance between them in a leap. Any fragment of composure he’d kept disintegrated. He wrapped his arms around Jisung, squeezing the other with all his strength. His face quickly found a home in the other’s shoulder, and sobs rocked his body. 

 

“Ji-Jisung,” Sungwoon cried. He gripped Jisung’s shirt with a tight grip as if he’d slip away otherwise. He couldn’t help but think of the other’s body; it’d been so long since they’d been close to one another. He couldn’t remember the last time they had been so far apart. It occurred to the former concubine that they hadn’t spent more than a few days separated since their marriage.

 

Jisung’s body felt different - that Sungwoon noted with immediacy. His bones felt more pronounced and his skin rougher. He smelled slightly different, too. No longer did the scent of Castle Jeon and perfumes and tinctures linger on the other’s skin. Now Jisung smelled of musk and the sea, with a hint of peppermint. Still, it was him, undeniably him. It did not matter to Sungwoon what he smelled like or if his skin felt rougher or his hair had grown a touch. All that mattered to Sungwoon was that Jisung was there, he was alive, and they were together.

 

“Wha- What’s h-happen-ning?” Jisung asked between sniffles. He never had been good at getting words out at his emotional highs. Sungwoon fancied himself the composed one of the two, but even he could hardly breathe, let alone speak. “Is this- is this r-real? I thought I’d- I thought I’d- I’d l-lost-”

 

“Hush,” With a monumental effort, Sungwoon pulled himself into a state of relative calm. He leveled his voice and steadied his breathing. Unlatching himself from the other’s shoulder, he gazed upon his husband. One of his hands relinquished its grip on the other, drifting up to cup the prisoner’s cheek. “I am not lost.  _ We  _ are not lost.”

 

Jisung looked as if he wanted to say something, but his face merely crumbled. More tears fell, and he shakily clung to his husband. Sungwoon could hold himself back no longer. He leaned up to take the other’s lips with his own. Despite his wrecked state, Jisung returned it eagerly. The prisoner heaved a sigh of relief as the two reacquainted with one another. Their first contact had been chaste. Jisung’s lips were chapped, and they tasted like salt. Another subtle change that showed just how far from home they’d found themselves.

 

Their kiss quickly devolved, much like their composure had. Sungwoon greeded for the other; any sense of decency or consideration had been tossed aside, replaced by pure need. He lapped at the other’s lips, prodding between them with his tongue. He grazed it across Jisung’s teeth and sucked on the other’s lower lip. A whine echoed across the forecastle as Jisung melted into pliancy under Sungwoon’s affections. The two stumbled until they found the nearest surface for support - the large navigation table. With Jisung leaning against it for support, the two nearly toppled over onto the table.  

 

By the time he needed air, Sungwoon’s specs had gone askew and his breath short. Gasping, he separated from the other and assessed him. Jisung’s lips had swollen and crying had reddened his eyes. In spite of all the roughness he’d been subjected to, he looked ravishing to Sungwoon. Almost temptingly so. Reigning back his urges, Sungwoon kept a short distance between them. 

 

“Sungwoon,” Jisung said breathily, “Wh- What is- Why are you here? H-how are you here? What is all this? I- I- That man- the concubine, he- Did he give you mercy? Did he- He-”

 

“Settle,” Sungwoon replied. He took one of Jisung’s hands in his own, squeezing softly. “I understand you must be baffled. Baffled and upset and exhausted and- and- I’m sorry-”

 

“F-for what, Sungwoon? For what?” Jisung asked. Wetness began welling up in his eyes again. “I- I’m so confused I just-”

 

“I know it must be hard and- and I’m sorry for all of this, but please, let me explain. I will tell you everything.”

 

“O-okay,” The prisoner nodded reluctantly. He trained his gaze on Sungwoon intently. 

 

Sungwoon took a deep breath before starting, “I suppose the first thing I ought to address is… Yes, you can say that the Captain extended me mercy. What do you recall from your last night at Castle Jeon?”

 

“Why- I’d been… I’d been taken,” Jisung frowned, “I could not even scream out, something had been obstructing my mouth. It was terrifying- I thought it a nightmare. You were next to me, were you not? I’d been so frenzied yet so far gone. I could not even cry out to the man in my arms… Now they have captured you, too.”

 

“I came willingly,” Sungwoon said bluntly. Jisung’s eyes widened. Before he could utter the question he so clearly wanted to ask, Sungwoon cut him off. “They were taking you, and- and the Captain was present. He did not want to allow me onboard, but… I made an appeal to him. He had mercy on me and allowed me to accompany him- well, you.”

 

“Sungwoon, what the hell?!” Jisung’s voice echoed across the small room. “How- how could you?”

 

“Wh- Darling, I-”

 

“You- you- do you know what you’ve done? Why-  _ why  _ would you come here with me?”

 

“Jisung-”

 

“If I am in danger that is allowable, but knowing that you’ve risked your wellbeing to be here?” He shook his head indignantly, “I cannot accept this.”

 

“You cannot accept this?” Sungwoon’s jaw dropped. He grasped his husband’s face, forcing the other’s eyes to meet his own. “I suggest you listen and listen well.” His eyes were dark, wrought with intensity of pent up emotions. He hadn’t had a chance to explain anything to Jisung, yet the other already felt the need to mouth off. Jisung’s mouth managed to be simultaneously one of his best and worst attributes (at least from Sungwoon’s perspective). “I came here of my own accord. There nothing for you to accept-”

 

“Sungwoon, how can I live with myself knowing I’ve- I’ve brought you into something so perilous. We have no idea who these people are or- or if they are trustworthy. They have it out for the courtiers, but you- you could have gotten out. You should have.”

 

“No,” Sungwoon shook his head sternly. “No.”

 

Jisung pressed his lips together into a thin line. He made a movement to walk away, but Sungwoon barred him. The shorter man kept his body planted firmly in front of the other, keeping him pinned against the desk. He even grabbed both of Jisung’s wrists to assure he stayed in place.

 

“Let go,” Jisung demanded through gritted teeth, “If- If that Captain is truly merciful, perhaps he can allow you to reverse this foolish decision.”

 

“You are not going anywhere to get anyone,” Sungwoon said back. He locked his gaze with Jisung’s, communicating ferocious insistence. 

 

“Sungwoon,” The older man struggled, but the former concubine had a firm grip. “Sungwoon- let go!”

 

“Jisung,” Sungwoon chuckled softly, “When have I ever allowed you to give me orders?” Jisung’s pupils flitted away sheepishly. “I’m sure as hell not about to start now.”

 

Fresh tears streamed down the prisoner’s cheeks. He turned his face away, guilt and shame painting itself on his features. 

 

“Sungwoon I- You-” Jisung toiled to find words. He took a long, shaky breath before continuing. With renewed assurance, the man’s eyes once again fell upon his husband. “I love you more than anything, you know that, don’t you?”

 

“And I, you. That is why I chose to be here,” Sungwoon replied.

 

“Yes- Yes of course you did, but-” Jisung shook his head. “I- I do not know what the future holds, but it appears grim. This-” He visibly struggled to speak, his voice thinning out, threatened by sobs rising in his throat. “This is not the life that I wanted for us. It is not what you deserve. To- to be tethered to some prisoner. For all we know, I am to be put to death at some point. There is no certainty in this future.” 

 

“You are my husband,” Anguish took hold of Sungwoon once again. It threatened to send him careening over the edge, to plunge him into a fit of his own. He stubbornly remained steady. “Of that, I am certain.”

 

“Sungwoon- I- Why did you not just leave me? Just- just go back to your family and- and start a new life? Forget about- about me-”

 

“You are my family!” Sungwoon fired back. Despite his efforts, he started crying again. Pride be damned, he let the tears fall. Shakily, one of his hands reached beneath the collar of his shirt. From it he withdrew the chain he always wore, lifting it into Jisung’s view. Unlike before, two rings dangled from it - not one. 

 

“You saved my ring,” Jisung muttered almost absentmindedly. Just as Sungwoon did, Jisung had always worn his ring on a chain, hidden beneath layers of clothing - their most precious secret.

 

“We made vows to one another,” Sungwoon said. “There was no priest or- or fanfare, but that does not make those vows any less valid. I said I would be by your side no matter what happened - through sickness and health, through fair and foul.”

 

“Sungwoon…”

 

“I am here, and I will be here, by your side, for as long as I live. If that means being on a pirate ship in the middle of the sea, then so be it.”

 

“I… I do not deserve you,” Jisung finally said, resignedly. 

 

“I know,” The younger man shrugged, grinning through his tears, “You’re very welcome.”

 

Jisung scoffed, rolling his eyes facetiously, “And so departs our lovely moment.” He let out a soft laugh.

  
Sungwoon took his lips once more. Even though his husband felt rough, holding him still felt lovelier than anything else in the world. The two remained like that, locked by lips. Only the soft crashing of waves and smacking of their lips sounded out. Warmth radiated from Sungwoon’s lips and chest, filling him to the brim with relief. It was going to be okay, the feeling assured him, everything was going to be okay. 

 

Even when the two parted, short of breath again, it didn’t feel like enough. Sungwoon nuzzled the other’s nose, letting the saccharine heat of affection wash over him. He wasn’t sure what to make of everything. His initial thoughts were that he wished they could be back in Jisung’s bed. The fine sheets of his massive bed felt so far away to him. He missed the food and the kind people, the day to day work and the long walks across the grounds. There was much about Castle Jeon Sungwoon missed. He’d come to know the place as home.

 

Yet, part of him felt relieved. Some sort of pressure had been lifted from him. It pained him to see Jisung in such a sorry state, but he knew it would be temporary. One day, Jisung would be unshackled, and so would Sungwoon. On that day, the two would be on equal footing. No longer would they be the Advisor and his concubine. They had a chance to be something so much better: to be Jisung and Sungwoon. Sungwoon knew it incredibly selfish of him to think that way. Part of him felt squashed by guilt because of it. How dare he find a happiness when his husband’s life had been so thoroughly disturbed. 

 

Guilt mingled with hope. 

 

He knew he could not change the past, but at the very least he saw a glimmer of fortune in their future. The former concubine hoped that would be enough to guide both of them into the light.

 

“Why ever were you apologizing?” Jisung asked, breaking their spell of silence.

 

Sungwoon pulled him close, planting another kiss on his cheek. He fidgeted with the cloth of Jisung’s shirt nervously, struggling to maintain eye contact.

 

“The truth is… My darling, I must tell you something- well, many things about- about all of this.”

 

Jisung’s face fell into an expression of concern, “What? What is it?”

 

“I- I feel guilt because, well… I… There are things I have not told you about this entire ordeal. Things that not even the Captain knows.” 

 

Jisung looked taken aback but didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded, listening as Sungwoon went on.

 

* * *

 

“Get that- no- over there!” “Move, move-” “What’re you doing? It’s supposed to be like this-” “Do you think a man of cloth would ever allow such a vulgar arrangement?” “Ouch! My toe!” “Watch where you’re going!” “Over here, over here.” “Up, up, it must be higher up.” “Straighten her out, yes!” “-ou’re doing it all wrong, scrub this way!” “Has anyone seen my guitar?” “Where are the pillows?!” “A little down, actually…” “Straighten it out, it’s all wonky!” “-uitar? Anyone? I’ve not found it-” “-this is a coronation, not a tawdry-” “Ouch! You’ve hit me twice now! Twice! Is this on purpose?!”

 

Eunji’s head darted around as she traversed the servant’s passage. To say that all hell had broken loose in Castle Jeon would have been an understatement. Nobles had been flooding into Castle Jeon at a rate yet seen by the head maid - and she’d been serving the royal family for decades. It baffled her how such a turnout could be. Not even the Harvest Festival had drawn so many out from their rich estates.

 

She conceded that she could see the draw comparatively. The most pretentious of Kang courtiers did not favor fraternizing with commoners. Many found the Festival affairs a rather vulgar excuse to spend a weekend in drunken squalor. A coronation, however, was a crucial political event. It set the stage for the new sovereign’s rule. Of course, nobles would be eager to scuttle up to him at the first chance, waiting to make a lasting impression on the new ruler.

 

As the date approached, Eunji’s dread increased. She carried the burden of knowledge along with the burden of running half of the Castle’s servant affairs. The maid practically felt like a traitor herself. She performed her duty to the highest standard while secretly cursing at those with the most power. The workload had transitioned from welcome distraction to anxiety inducing hindrance.

 

The head maid ascended the steps into one of the main corridors, heading toward a bedroom she’d been cleaning. 

 

“Miss Eunji!” A man’s voice followed at her tail. Eunji groaned internally. She’d been stopped dozens of times already and the sun hadn’t even peaked in the sky.

 

Trying not to look too irritated, the maid turned around, “Yes?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise. She hadn’t expected one of the court musicians to approach her. She struggled to recall his name; she did, however, remember his pure, clear voice. She gave a polite curtsey, asking “How may I be of service...”

 

“Kim Jaehwan,” The musician did a small bow.

 

“How may I be of service, sir?”

 

“Oh, I was wondering if you’ve seen a guitar anywhere? I’m frightfully clumsy and I’m afraid I’ve misplaced it. I understand the servants have been cleaning like mad people. Have you seen a guitar anywhere?”

 

Eunji shook her head, “I can’t say I have. However, I can assure you are informed should I find one.”

 

“Ah, what a shame. Thank you for your-mmph!” 

 

Someone abruptly burst into view. Eunji’s eyes went wide; she hardly thought the thing human for a moment. The poor court musician tumbled onto the floor, squashed beneath another young man.

 

“Jaehwan!” The young man said. He looked familiar to the maid, too. Another court musician, she figured.

 

“Why?” The musician groaned at the man above him. “Park Woojin what are you doing?” Eunji felt inclined to ask the same.

 

“I’ve got excellent news!” Woojin said enthusiastically, getting off of the felled man. Jaehwan stood up slowly. He dusted himself off, huffing before he regarded the younger man.

 

“You could have said that without knocking me to the ground!” Suddenly, he gasped, “Wait- Good news? You’ve found my guitar?”

 

“Wh- No, no. Not at all. Wait, your guitar is missing?”

 

“Wh- Yes! Yes, it is! I’ve told you half a dozen times already. It’s not in the practice hall, either.”

 

“No? Oh-” It seemed as if Park Woojin just then noticed the presence of another person. “Oh, you- you- you- you’re a maid, right?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Eunji said, giving another curtsey. She swore that she had seen the other man around many times before. Apparently passing in halls or tending to a person’s room did not make quite a strong enough impression.

 

“Can you find his guitar?” The performer asked.

 

Eunji wanted to tell him, “I’ve a hundred other things to do, but, yes. Let me do that for you because some imbecile misplacing his guitar is  _ obviously  _ my first and foremost priority.”

  
She didn’t.

 

“I will certainly keep an eye out for it,” She said instead.

 

“Very good,” Woojin nodded. He turned back to Jaehwan, “Oh! My news!”

 

“Yes, the reason you’ve assaulted me. I’m eager to know,” Jaehwan said flatly.

 

“You must follow me to the practice room at once! I’ve just thought of a beautiful adaptation to my dance for the coronation ball! You have to see it!”

 

“Wh- But I’ve not finished my arrangement yet. The King-to-be insisted on a new accompaniment. Said he wanted the Kingdom to have a truly new start,” The musician rolled his eyes.

 

“You haven’t finished it  _ yet _ . My dance will inspire you- come, come!” With that, the energetic performer trotted off.

  
“Wh- But- But my guitar!” Jaehwan called after him. He turned to Eunji, “Sorry, miss.” He gave a parting nod before running after the other man.

 

Eunji sighed, rolling her eyes. Apparently, the servants were not the only ones driven to lunacy by the coronation. Madness reigned among castle staff and artesians. The coronation had been anticipated, yet it still felt incredibly sudden. Surely, Eunji thought, the proceedings could have waited a week or two more. It almost felt as if Prince Daehwi intentionally rushed the proceedings. Or perhaps he had been tempted by an outsider to do so. The maid sighed inwardly. 

 

She felt as if finding things out used to be much easier. Yet, none of the servants seemed to bat an eyelash at the recent assassination of King Daniel. The few who had spoken about it merely pointed to the fact that King Daniel wasn’t well liked among the nobility. He had loyal followers, but many resented his relatively soft hearted approach to ruling. Many of the Kang people hated the integration of others into society and preferred it the old way: killing them and taking their land. Some merely disliked his manor altogether, and one servant even stated that “a couple of nobles said he was too handsome”. Whatever the reason, many had already written off the death of King Daniel, crediting his reputation for his ultimate demise.

 

As she distanced herself from the servant’s passage, noise diminished. The nobles of Castle Jeon dined at the hour. It made for an ideal time to get work done - or sneak around. Luckily for Eunji, she could do both in tandem. Her shoes clacked against the shining tile, echoing loudly along the empty halls. She ascended a few staircases and passed through more corridors until finally reaching the room she’d been working on.

 

“Girls?” Eunji muttered as she entered.

 

“Miss Eunji,” Hayoung greeted her superior with a grin. Namjoo followed. Eunji had truly taken the other two under her wing. Under the guise of grooming them to ascend the servant ranks, she’d dragged them across the castle all week. No amount of scouring or scrubbing had yielded any new information - not that it surprised the head maid. Most nobles did not leave incriminating, explicit evidence of treachery on their bedside tables. 

 

“How’s this room coming along?” Eunji asked. She glanced around. The sheets had been changed and the pillows fluffed. The girls inside had moved onto the furniture, polishing it carefully with delicate linens.

 

“Fine.” “Boring!” The two replied.

 

Namjoo huffed, “Miss Eunji, there has not been an inkling of evidence since we started our sweep of the nobles’ bedrooms. How are we going to find the truth before the coronation?!”

 

Eunji frowned, “Namjoo, I’m afraid our hope of discovering the truth prior to coronation is not realistic. That does not diminish our urgency, but… Prince Daehwi will be crowned King unless some sort of divine intervention should occur.” The lower maids exchanged dismayed glances.

 

“You know what the worst part is?” Namjoo crossed her arms with annoyance, “I bet these noble types talk about this openly during their little dances and dinners. They probably laugh at those of us left in the dark, thinking us fools.”

 

“I highly doubt they are discussing assassination over the dinner table,” Eunji said.

 

“I am serious! You overhear all sorts of ludicrous things from them. All of their affairs and relations are aired out in the sanctity of their posh parlors and drawing rooms. Meanwhile, we must be whisked away at their whim, unknowing of even the political climate.”

 

Hayoung sighed, “Well, you must be grateful. We as servants are better off than most folk. The people in remote villages receive notices from messengers. At the very least we are present at the source, and we can hear things. Some things, anyways.” She tried to distract herself from her perturbation by focusing heavily on a corner of the wardrobe. The overflowing of dresses billowing out nearly knocked her over. Determinedly, she wiped the inside of the door as if it was the most important cleaning she had done all day.

 

“Some things is not good enough! A man was killed!”

 

“Hush!” Eunji held her finger to her lips, scolding Namjoo. “Do you wish to proclaim our suspicions to the whole castle?”

 

“You know it to be true,” Namjoo pouted. “Things like this, they are not discussed in easily traceable notes and ledgers. They are hidden in plain sight- coded conversation and messages. Things we are not privy to. We will find nothing at this rate, and King Daniel will be done dishonor, buried under the guise of- of a disgruntled peasant!”

 

Hayoung frowned, opening the wardrobe to fixate on the interior, “Namjoo, you act as if these people discuss death while they break bread. Even if we could hear their conversations, I doubt anything other than haughty drivel would leave their lips.”

 

“How can you be so sure? It is not as if we are getting clearer answers now, is it? I’m sure one of those Bae ladies or the Prince’s confidant would spill something with enough wine. Not to one of us, though…”

 

Eunji shook her head, “Namjoo, you must drop this. We can- we can do better, yes. We merely have to think about how?”

 

“Have we not been doing that for days?” Namjoo protested.

 

“Well, we just need to think harder. Unless one of you has a title I don’t know about, we shall have to be more clever than that. It’s not as if we can merely walk into court and ask questions. We can’t just be noble ladies!”

 

Hayoung abruptly paused, her head whipped in Eunji’s direction, “What did you say, Miss?”

 

Eunji rolled her eyes, “I said, we cannot simply be noble ladies. We can’t just promenade into the dining hall and demand a seat at the table. We are servants, not ladies.”

 

Hayoung looked Eunji up and down. She appeared to study the other closely as if examining an undiscovered species of animal. 

 

“What are you doing?” The head maid asked, her brows furrowing.

 

The lower maid did not answer. Instead, she paced over to her superior, doing a full circle around the woman.

 

“Wh- Stop that! What are you doing- what is she doing?” Eunji asked pointedly to Namjoo. Namjoo shook her head and shrugged. Her eyes were wide with befuddlement.

 

When Hayoung had finally finished her unceremonious inspection, she stopped right in front of Eunji. With a nod, the lower maid quirked an eyebrow and said:

 

“What if you could?”

 

“Hm?” Eunji grunted.

 

A tricky grin tickled at the edges of Hayoung’s lips, and she restated, “I said: what if you could?”

 

“If I could… What if I could what?” The head maid had been frazzled enough as it was. She quickly tired of her junior’s antics and had half a mind to shove her out the door of the room.

 

“What if you could be a noble lady, Miss Eunji?” Hayoung sounded immensely proud of her words.

 

“I- Hm?”

 

Namjoo caught on more quickly than Eunji, and the lower maid joined Hayoung’s side. She began doing just as Hayoung had done: assessing their superior. 

 

“What is this? What are you two doing?”

 

The two, lost in their own world, began rambling to one another.

 

“She’s got fair skin…” Hayoung remarked.

 

“Quite a nice figure, too,” Namjoo added.

 

“Good hair- shiny for a commoner!”

 

“A rather youthful appearance for her ag-”

 

“That is enough!” Eunji interjected. “Will you two explain to me what you are blathering on about?! Before I put my shoe up your ass!” She puffed. The lower maids exchanged glances before one of them finally explained.

 

Hayoung provided elaboration, “Miss Eunji, you could be a noble,” She eyed the overstuffed wardrobe pointedly, “I’m sure Lady… Whatever-her-name-is would not notice one of these fine garments missing.”

  
Eunji’s jaw dropped and her eyes burst wide open. She began shaking her head frantically in protest.

 

Namjoo agreed, “There are so many beautiful, richly made dresses. A single one missing- a more simple one, perhaps - I am sure she would not notice a thing.”

 

“It would be taken for cleaning,” Hayoung added, “Since one of us clumsy maids spilled something on it.”

 

“Oh- Yes! Yes, cleaning! What fine lady would not want her clothing in pristine condition?”

 

“Why, no noble lady would dare step out in something with visible dirt! It’s disgraceful!”

 

“You are quite right, Hayoung.” The two seemed to be enjoying themselves entirely too much.

 

“O-oh, oh no,” Eunji resisted. “Oh, no. No, no,  _ no _ . I cannot. It is- it is theft.”

 

“It is for the greater good,” Hayoung prodded her superior.

 

“For King Daniel,” Namjoo said.

 

“If I am discovered it will be my head! Perhaps my hands if I am lucky. I am a maid for God’s sake,” The head maid replied.

 

“Miss Eunji, nobles are swarming this place like damn locusts. It is the perfect time to conduct such a covert investigation. You said it yourself: you are a maid. We are more invisible to nobles than the air they breathe. Nobody would recognize you,” Hayoung assured the other.

 

“And who the hell am I supposed to be? What if they start asking me noble questions? I know nothing about- about land and- and manners. This is preposterous!”

 

“This is genius!” Hayoung insisted.

 

Namjoo scrambled to give her fellow maid more support, “As for- for noble things, you can read, can you not? That’s a good enough start. Many noble women can’t do that!”

 

“Plus, we can help you practice how to walk and talk. You can make up a name and story- be from somewhere far enough to be unfamiliar, but close enough to be relevant,” Hayoung added.

 

“And why the hell am I the one tasked with playing dress up?” Eunji asked indignantly.

 

“Well, if you insist,” Hayoung stepped back toward the wardrobe, grazing her hand along the dresses jutting out, “If I must make the sacrifice and choose one of these gorgeous, stunning dres-”

 

“Fine,” Eunji groaned. “Fine.” She loathed the idea, but giving it some thought, she realized: the two were onto something. Blending in with nobles could prove beneficial. Grandiose affairs typically paired with alcohol which loosened lips. With the sea of rich blood flooding the Castle, a single odd or unfamiliar face would hardly stir any suspicion.

 

Queen Irene, while cool, kept rather warm company. Eunji had seen her ladies in waiting chattering many a time. They seemed to like entertaining and socializing. Whether the King’s demise had been arranged by the Baes or Prince Daehwi himself, getting in with those ladies seemed a good start. Even entering a conversation with them could glean some information they’d missed.

 

“You’ll do it?” “Really?!” The two lower maids gasped. Namjoo clapped happily.

 

Eunji sighed, “Only because I refuse to put either of you two at risk.”

 

Hayoung eyed the dress collection with new vigor. She began fingering the ribbons and lace trims eagerly, searching for the soon to be “stained” dress. 

 

“Eeee! This will be so much fun!” Namjoo squealed.

 

Eunji looked at the other two in disbelief. Namjoo looked giddier than ever, and Hayoung excitedly muttered about dresses to herself as if in a trance.

 

“This is not for fun, you two! Stop- stop having fun!”

 

“Wh- We’re not,” Hayoung protested, “We are working diligently, isn’t that right, Namjoo?”

 

“Yes, diligently!” The other maid said. She punctuated the point by scurrying over to the table she’d been polishing before, resuming her wiping.

 

“W...Well,” Eunji bit her lip nervously, “This better work!”

 

She could not believe what she’d just agreed to. She prayed that it worked. Not just for her own sake, but for King Daniel’s and Seongwoo’s. If finding the truth meant wearing a stunning dress and acting like a prideful, prim lady for a night or two - well, she would just have to make the sacrifice. So be it.

 

* * *

 

Indigo and lavender spanned the dusk sky, receding into the sun’s last glimmers of golden light. The Vengeance’s pace slowed to a mere crawl. It floated on a sea of water blacker than ink, blending into the dark depths below. In the distance, craggy rock silhouetted against the rainbow of violets and pinks. The black spires preceded the sacred meeting grounds of The Black Council - the ruling body of The Black Armada. 

 

The jagged structure lent itself well to the name they’d affectionately given it: The Rock. In the distance, other ships loomed - some anchored, others still en route. Galleons and brigantines, schooners and frigates, they all gathered at The Rock. No doubt they had received similar correspondence to what the Vengeance had.

 

A warm breeze blew gently through the air. Despite its inviting nature, something about the calmness felt harrowing to the Vengeance’s Captain, Ong Seongwoo. He stood atop the foredeck, gazing at the small island on which they closed in. By his side stood the first mate, Go Taeseob - a loyal friend and devoted warrior. Many others like them would soon gather on the rock. Seongwoo imagined that the Admiral’s dinghy was already on route. 

 

Seongwoo glanced up. Stars had begun to speck the sky, and the moon had already started its ascent. He turned toward the stern and leaned over the railing of the foredeck. The crew scurried around, rolling up the buoy and tying the hawser to the bitts. He looked over his shoulder, letting the Vengeance move a short while more before making his orders.

 

Standing up straight, Seongwoo hollered to his men on the deck below, “Cable ready?”

 

“Yes, sir!” The choir of his crew bellowed back.

 

“Anchors ready?” The Captain asked.

 

“Yes, sir!” They replied again.

 

“Drop the larboard anchor!” Seongwoo instructed. A flurry of people rushing about ensued. The sound of creaking wood and clinking metal followed as the hawser fell into the sea. Coiled rope unraveled so rapidly it blurred in the Captain’s vision until finally going limp. Crew scurried to the starboard side of the ship where the second anchor hung. They released its fastening, and it swung down heavily into a vertical position. The Vengeance drifted until the first anchor’s hawser finally went taut. 

 

“Drop the second anchor!” Seongwoo commanded, “Ready at the capstan!”

 

“Yes, sir!” Crew hollered up to him. The second anchor dropped, its rope going limp much quicker than the first. 

 

“Reel the capstan!” The crew that had gathered around the cylindrical structure began pushing at its jutting levers. Reeling in a galleon as massive as the Vengeance proved no small feat. Those around it hollered in solidarity, pushing with all their might. Gently, the Vengeance pulled back. Ong watched carefully, ensuring that all things went to order until the Onyx Vengeance had finally been settled between its two anchors.

 

“Release!” Seongwoo demanded when they’d finally reached the halfway point. The people gathered around the capstan crumbled onto the deck, heaving sighs of relief. Ong let out the breath he wasn’t sure he’d been holding. They hadn’t anchored for some time - at least, not under his command. It was strangely gratifying to him. He truly felt like a captain again.

 

The Captain descended the steps to the main deck, and the First Mate followed at his tail. Crew milled about, some heading toward the galley while other returned to their previous posts. From the forecastle emerged the Quartermaster. Ong turned to the older man, giving him a nod.

 

“Quartermaster,”  Seongwoo said. He bowed his head slightly upon greeting the man. While he technically outranked the man, the Quartermaster had been his mentor. He still revered him with the utmost respect.

 

“Tch,” The man feigned contempt, “Captain, you may call me by name. I promise lightning won’t smite you down if you say ‘Yesung’,” He chuckled.

 

“I refuse,” Ong replied bluntly. He grinned at the remark regardless. Yesung had captained the ship until Seongwoo came of age. The man filled in where his father could not, and Seongwoo was eternally grateful. Yesung had helped soothe the crew’s uncertainty when the transition had been made. He’d stepped down and taken the role of Quartermaster - master of the ship's inventory and treasure - once Seongwoo had been promoted. Though Ong had initially insisted Yesung be his right-hand man, Yesung refused. He always said that Seongwoo needed to forge his own path and build up his own allegiance.

 

“Have it your way. You’re the boss,” Yesung teased. “You two ought to set off soon,” He said, nodding toward The Rock. 

 

Ong bit his lip nervously and nodded, “We shall, we shall.”

 

“You know how the Admiral gets when people are late. Wouldn’t want to miss supper- oh! Speaking of supper,” Yesung gestured to a crew member nearby, “You- fetch the sack on the forecastle desk. Yes- it’s in the middle.” The young man ambled off toward where Yesung had come from. He returned quickly, bearing a large bundle wrapped in rough cloth. “Your offering for supper.” Yesung nodded toward it.

 

“Oh,” Ong raised his eyebrows in interest, “And what are we sharing this time?”

 

“Yellow melons and some cherries. I also threw in some of those- some of those strange orange things.”

 

“Oranges?” Taeseob asked with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“No, you idiot. Not oranges,” Yesung chuckled, “They- they look like… Tomatoes? Some Kang fruit, I’m not sure. They’re sweet enough.”

 

“I’m sure the Council will enjoy them,” Ong laughed. “Thank you, Quartermaster.”

 

“Simply fulfilling my duty,” Yesung replied. He looked to the crew member, “Load that onto the dinghy- gently now! Bruise the fruit and I will bruise you!” He called after the young man.

 

“You’ve charge of the ship in my absence, as usual,” Seongwoo told the older man. “The Lieutenants will be by your side as well.”

 

“It’s to be a quiet night,” The Quartermaster said, sounding amused at the Captain’s earnestness. “I assure you we will send the signal should any calamities happen.”

 

“Right, of course, of course. And- and if anything happens at all, do not hesitate to-”

 

“Captain,” Yesung cut the younger man off, “I used to run this ship, you know. I still do- in a more modest capacity. There is not a single cloud on the horizon and the winds blow gently. Do you doubt me?”

 

“Wh- No, no, of- of course not, I merely want to assure that you are- that you are equipped. So that I can- I can-”

 

“Stall?” Yesung finished the sentence with a smirk. Taeseob raised his eyebrows at the Captain in a knowing expression.

 

Seongwoo pursed his lips with irritation. Perhaps he had been trying to put off the swelling of his nerves. Perhaps the people on that island terrified him, and he had spent many nights sleepless in anticipation of meeting them. Still, hearing it said so plainly galled him slightly. Had any other lower officer said such a thing, he would have reprimanded them in some way. Yesung, however, was not someone Seongwoo could ever rightly reprimand. The man had done so much for him. Part of him still felt inclined to call Yesung “Captain” or even “big brother”. 

 

Those days were long past, and Seongwoo had to accept it. He knew he had to, and so did Yesung. The Captain knew he could not hide behind his Quartermaster or First Mate. All he could do was stand by the decisions he’d made and the things he’d done. He needed to do those things and do them in front of the Council.

 

“Alright, alright. Fine,” Ong sighed, “If you wanted me off this ship so damn bad you could have just said so.”

 

Yesung smiled, “That so? I’ll remember that next time you take more than your share of rum.” He clapped Seongwoo on the shoulder, leaning in and speaking lower. “It’ll be alright. If anything, they’re all going to be proud of you.”

 

Seongwoo nodded in affirmation, but his eyes darted to the floorboards. He hoped that Yesung was right. Taking a deep breath, he forced another grin at the Quartermaster.

 

“Well then, we’ll be off,” Seongwoo nodded. “Taeseob!” He called to the First Mate as he walked toward the railing of the main deck where their dinghy awaited.

 

“Yes, sir!” The First Mate chirped, following obediently.

 

“Oh!” Yesung yelled after the two, “Send the Father my regards!”

 

“Always!” Seongwoo hollered back over his shoulder. 

 

The Captain and First Mate crossed the deck over to the dinghy. Two crew members waited by the dangling ship to lower them down. Giving them a nod and a few farewell remarks, Ong boarded the rocky ship. Taeseob followed, and soon the little boat sunk lower, closer and closer to the water. 

 

_ “Spliiish!” _

 

The sound of disturbed water disrupted the quiet of the evening as they hit its surface. Taeseob untethered them. Seongwoo took another long breath. His exhalation came out shakily; it betrayed his nerves.

 

Seongwoo had chosen carefully the recounting of Castle Jeon he told. The messages that had been relayed to the others were brief and vague. They knew of his struggles, but not of the intimate details. Only Taeseob knew the truth of his feelings for Daniel. Regardless of the care he’d taken, a darkness loomed over the Captain’s back.

 

A lingering fear told him that, somehow, his peers would discover what had happened. The thought of their reactions terrified him. Would he be considered a traitor? A sympathizer?  And what of the allegiances formed with other former citizens of the Kang Kingdom? He suspected they would certainly have words regarding the unanticipated guests.

 

The Onyx Vengeance shrunk in the distance, and the asperous peaks of The Rock grew with each stroke of the oars. Seongwoo scanned the horizon. From the Council’s anchored ships, little dinghys much like the one he rode set out. A couple had already reached the island in the distance while others had just touched sea. 

 

In front of him, puffs of smoke began to rise. The fire had been lit. Ashes and embers floated up, dancing between brushy tree leaves and large rock structures. Anxiety kept a steady arm around Seongwoo’s shoulders, pulling him into a weightful embrace. As the flames grew brighter and the island closer, his worry compounded. In spite of his nerves, he stubbornly built a visage of cool confidence. All too soon, human forms silhouetted against the deep azure sky. The Council’s small boats closed in on The Rock.

 

“Seongwoo,” Taeseob said softly, pausing his paddling for a moment.

 

“Yes, Taeseob?” Ong replied.

 

“Are you ready?” The First Mate looked at him sincerely. For the first time since returning from the ordeal, Seongwoo saw uncertainty in the other’s eyes. Taeseob was uneasy as well. Something about the shared apprehension gave Seongwoo consolation. 

 

He nodded solemnly, looking the other in the eye, “As I’ll ever be.” The Captain gazed ahead once more. The Rock was nearly upon them. In minutes they’d hit the sandbar. Supper would begin once everyone had arrived. After almost a year, Seongwoo was to finally meet his peers and allies again. He’d avoided it for so long - the thought of their discernment. No longer could the Captain avoid it. To himself, Seongwoo prayed. He prayed that he would have the strength to stand by his convictions and that his people would find it in their souls to be merciful. Most of all, he prayed that his true heart would remain uncompromised. No longer could he flee their prying or judgment.

 

He finally had to face The Black Council.


	7. The Rock

The Onyx Vengeance’s dinghy hit sand with a soft “thud”. Swallowing down his nerves, Captain Ong stepped out, helping his First Mate drag the thing onto shore. Smoke had already begun rising from the middle of the tiny splotch of land in the expanse of blue. A few silhouettes milled about in the distance, all of them carrying their own unique aura of intimidation.

 

A person could likely pace The Rock from end to end in five minutes or less. Aside from the massive jags jutting out of the ground, there were a few small palm trees and stubborn patches of fescue growing throughout. It had been charted out decades before Seongwoo knew of its existence. It appeared more like a blemish on the lapis sea than any functional plot of land, leaving it wholly ignored. Just large enough to support the weight of a few ship captains, it made the ideal meeting spot for The Black Council. Waves lapped up lazily against the small rock, kicking up around the Captain’s boots and spraying his legs.

 

When the dinghy had been pulled onto land, Captain Ong paused. He felt frozen in place, and his eyes fixed on the people around the fire. The chatter of the other Council members buzzed just slightly above the soft crashing of waves. Seongwoo had gone over what he would tell everyone dozens of times; yet, those thoughts crumbled when faced with the real thing. 

 

“Come on,” Taeseob muttered, hoisting the bag of fruit they’d brought over his shoulder, “Let’s go.” He nodded toward the roaring fire.

 

“Taeseob,” Ong paced over to the other, leaning in close so only they could hear his words, “You must promise me something.” The First Mate merely quirked an inquisitive brow. “You cannot tell them about-”

 

“I understand,” Taeseob nodded, and the look in his eyes communicated that he truly did understand. Seongwoo felt grateful that he didn’t need to speak of it. Though the others were a distance away, he still feared one could overhear. Or read his thoughts. Especially the Admiral - nothing seemed to get past her discerning eye.

 

Seongwoo nodded, “Right.” With that, he and Taeseob plodded up the sandy hill toward the center of The Rock. Pressure weighed down on the Captain’s shoulders as the distance between him and the others shrunk. Swallowing proved more difficult than usual, and his ears hummed with the idle buzz of nervousness. Laboring to ignore the worry lurking beneath his skin, Seongwoo threw on a visage of easy confidence.

 

A tall man’s figure turned around, greeting him first, “Ong!” Seongwoo scarcely had time to prepare himself before the other pulled him roughly into a one-armed hug. The man stood just a smidgen taller than he but his nine years of seniority on the other always inspired awe in Seongwoo. The reverence and regard wasn’t necessarily mutual. While the older Captain certainly respected Seongwoo, he likened Ong to a little brother more than anything else. 

 

“Captain Yunho,” Seongwoo flashed the other a grin. He returned the other’s half hug warmly. Having Yunho be the first to greet him eased his anxiousness slightly. The man could be likened to a large, friendly dog. 

 

“Taeseob!” Yunho greeted Ong’s first mate with a genial nod. “Now you-” He turned his attention back to Ong, dragging him toward the fire, “-have to tell us everything!”

 

“Oh, do I?” Seongwoo’s face scrunched as he chuckled. “What ever do you imply?”

 

“I imply nothing. I am explicitly saying that you’ve just returned from the most elaborate con one of us has ever pulled off. And succeeded. You, little brother,” Yunho grabbed both of Ong’s shoulders, looking him in the eye, “Are going to become a legend.”

 

Seongwoo grinned halfheartedly. He supposed that his acts would be remembered - even if not directly. Ultimately, many different people had been impacted by the King’s extraction from Castle Jeon. Lives changed, some more drastically than others. People likely whispered about King Daniel’s death to the very day. To call it legendary certainly put a more shining light on it than Seongwoo would have, but he supposed he ought to take the positive remarks in stride.

 

“Can a man not have a drink before being bombarded with such celebrations?” Ong asked.

 

“Have it as you wish,” Yunho let go of the other’s shoulders, shrugging. He bellowed over to the small gathering around the fire, “You hear that people? The legendary Captain Ong Seongwoo, slayer of Kings and shepherd who leads us to our promised land is thirsty! This man demands a drink!”

 

Seongwoo covered his face with his hand. Immediately a choir of triumphant yells sounded out from the short distance away. Nearly every captain and their right hand sat around the roaring fire, and now they all were aware of his own arrival.

 

Yunho clapped Ong on the shoulder, a mischievous grin on his lips, “See? Now you’ll have a drink. Changmin- Changmin!” He called over his first mate. Taeseob - who had been nearby the whole time - practically cowered behind Ong at the mention of Yunho’s right hand.

 

Changmin contrasted his warm Captain greatly. Yunho could be described as genial and effervescent. The man expressed himself in a straightforward manner and stood out as a bastion of positivity. Changmin, though not necessarily standoffish, had a cool streak. Upon first knowing him, Seongwoo thought the man incredibly frigid. However, after learning more, he realized Changmin was not cool but dry. He spoke bluntly but possessed his own streak of mischief. Frank facetiousness was the primary vehicle Changmin used for communication. While it often led to misunderstandings, one who came to know Yunho’s hand realized that his strange sense of humor made him no less warm or kind. Well, for the most part. Taeseob still felt traumatized from his apprenticeship.

 

“A drink, Changmin! And don’t water it down!” Yunho hollered to his first mate.

 

Changmin rolled his eyes and groaned but did it anyway, “Yes,  _ sir _ .” The trio advanced toward the fire in the meanwhile. Seongwoo took one last deep breath before approaching the fire and facing the others. His eyes unconsciously trained on the sandy ground beneath his feet as he approached. Warmth from the fire licked him up and down, working with his nerves to evoke clammy sweat from his skin. 

 

“I scarcely believe my eyes!” A woman gleefully slunk toward Seongwoo. Her crystal blue eyes and the birthmark dotting her face made her unmistakable. The lady Captain of the Sable Sails had never been shy to show off her god-granted figure; her blouse’s neckline sunk beneath her shoulders, giving her ample room for her to hang jewels from her conquests. “Is that  _ the  _ dignified Captain Ong Seongwoo, Commander of the Onyx Vengeance?” Her voice had the slight tint of a slur to it, but Ong knew damn well that she could hold her liquor better than any man he knew. Many a man had been smitten by her surly, forthright charms, and the woman had never hesitated to use that to her advantage.

 

“Captain Hyuna!” Seongwoo greeted the Sable’s Captain with a grin. 

 

“Hello, pet,” Hyuna leaned in to peck Ong on the cheek. She’d never been one to align with conventional etiquette. Seongwoo supposed the pirate’s life suited her better than anyone else. It made sense given that her people had always been nomads - that was why the Kingdom had hunted them down. Moving across water differed little from the land, apparently. “How’re you faring- back on the Vengeance and all that? Get your sea legs back?” She asked, a warm smile crossing her rouge lips.

 

“Yes, I have,” Seongwoo nodded.

 

“Splendid to hear. Oh- Oh my love,” Hyuna leaned over her shoulder, waving over her first mate, “Come here- Yes, over here!” The man to whom she had waved looked up from his post by the fire. He and another first mate had been tying up a hog to be put over the fire. The man huffed, blowing some of his straw-colored hair out of his face as he paced over.

 

“My love,” He said when he’d reached Seongwoo’s corner of the fire. Her first mate, called E’Dawn, also happened to be her husband. “Do not crowd the poor man. He’s barely stepped foot onto this island.” The first mate told his captain.

 

Hyuna dramatically pouted, narrowing her eyes at the other, “Our beloved brother has returned from a most perilous journey and this is the enthusiasm with which you meet him?” She shook her head, “Shame, shame. Shame, shame, shame…” She rambled. E’Dawn chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

 

“Love we’ve not even eaten supper. How much have you had to drink?”

 

“I could land an arrow between a gull’s eyes right now. Don’t talk to me about how much I’ve had to drink.”

 

“There, there, let Captain Ong breathe. I am sure he will tell us everything when the time comes,” E’Dawn flashed Seongwoo a grin, leading Hyuna away slowly. He nodded quickly and greeted Seongwoo before giving her a perch on one of the logs around the fire. 

  
Seongwoo felt inclined to take a seat himself and did so on the opposite side. E’Dawn called Taeseob over and the other first mates continued work on supper, and Yunho had gotten sidetracked harassing someone else. A pig had been hoisted onto a stick over the fire, and chopped fruits were being thrown into a wrought iron pot. The smell of meat and herbs began drifting across the small island into Ong’s nose. Unfortunately, he had little time to relax before being assailed with more camaraderie.

 

“Your drink, oh shepherd,” Changmin extended a worn pewter cup to Ong facetiously. Seongwoo let out a laugh. He knew the “shepherd” moniker was a joke, but part of him feared it would catch on. He had no desire to be likened to some holy figure, especially in the presence of the good Father.

 

The Captain gladly took the cup extended, pouring the liquid down his throat without thought. His face scrunched at the searing of his insides. Its sting gratified him. He let out a huff of air, letting the acrid stinging sensation wash over him. It helped slightly.

 

“Feel better?” Changmin asked. The expression on his face communicated a knowing of sorts. He certainly had no intimate knowledge of Seongwoo’s thoughts or feelings, yet he seemed to understand something.

 

Seongwoo gave a nod in response.

 

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Changmin asked rhetorically. He glanced over at the raucous gathering of pirates just beyond the fire. 

 

People laughed and chattered gayly, no doubt exchanging tales from the time they’d spent apart. Council meetings were not held often. When they were, seldom did so many Captains manage to make it onto The Rock at the same time. Upon the occasion that The Black Armada’s highest commanders could convene, they celebrated. Seeing each other alive and in one piece was cause enough for festivity among the ranks.

 

“I expect nothing less from a gathering of pirates,” Seongwoo responded with a chuckle.

 

The statement amused Changmin; he grinned, “Right. You’ve done well, Captain. Very, very well. I can’t help but think about how precarious your mission was. I wonder, how you have adjusted to being a Captain after your time away?”

 

“Well, we have Crescene. I am very satisfied with that,” Seongwoo forced a diplomatic tone.

 

Changmin narrowed his eyes, “I did not ask if you were satisfied with the result of your mission,” He lowered his voice, gazing discerningly into Seongwoo’s eyes. Softly, he said, “I asked how  _ you  _ have been, Seongwoo.”

 

“I-” The words “am fine” lingered at the tip of his tongue. For some reason, he could not will them forward. He tried “am doing well” - those did not work either. He couldn’t get them to leave his throat. “I-” His heart sunk with his futile efforts. He glanced down into his pewter cup, as if it would have the answer to Changmin’s question. “I need another drink.”

 

“Very well then,” Changmin let out a soft chuckle. He reached for Seongwoo’s empty cup which the Captain gave graciously. The first mate lowered his voice once more, whispering with sincerity, “Just because you’ve left that Castle does not mean it has left you. If your transition back is not as easy as it appears… Well, no judgment will come from my Captain or me.” With that, Changmin strode toward the barrels opposite the fire. 

 

Seongwoo forced another deep, steadying breath through his lungs. He felt prickly as if every little nerve and fear he felt had formed needles and prodded him. Though their sting was not dire or unbearable, it almost galled him more to be badgered by myriad small things than a large one. Once again, his spell of solitude had been cut short; this time, his own first mate plopped down onto the log next to him.

 

“Special delivery, Captain,” Taeseob said, extending a freshly topped off cup of rum toward his commanding officer. “Courtesy of the handsome gentleman who manages to forget my face every time we meet.”

 

That elicited a much-needed laugh from the Captain, “Really? Changmin still doesn’t remember you?”

 

“I’ve introduced myself half a dozen times- every time we have one of these goddamn meetings. And what do I get?” The first mate put on a sallow expression facetiously, “I get: ‘Oh, who are you? Do I know you? Are you sure you were my apprentice?’- absolutely ridiculous!”

 

“I think he is doing it on purpose,” Ong remarked.

 

“Oh- I know he does it on purpose, but I’m still the one who looks like a buffoon every time I mention it!” Taeseob groaned. 

 

“I am sure that is his way of saying he likes you! He doesn’t pull tricks on people he doesn’t like- well unless they are a target of sorts.”

 

“I am a target! Of his cold contempt!” Taeseob replied, dramatically clasping his heart. “How ever are we to be wed if he refuses to remember my face?”

 

“Still on about that?” Ong snorted. “You’d have to best Yunho in a duel to wrest Changmin away from his side. Good luck with that.”

 

“It is true those two have been side by side for years, haven’t they?”

 

“I believe it’s been over a decade now, hasn’t it?”

 

“God, I know people who can’t even count that high.”

 

Seongwoo chuckled, “Yes, over ten years that is… That’s quite a lot, isn’t it?” His smile diminished slightly at the thought of it. Captain Yunho and Changmin had been enlisted in the Armada far before Seongwoo ever had. For the years of toil Seongwoo had endured, his seniors had done so in triplicate. Their struggles had truly gone on for so long. It astounded Seongwoo. 

 

Yet, there they all met, at one of their last meetings as The Black Council. Soon, those struggles would come to a head of sorts. An end? Perhaps not, but they would all soon turn the page to a new chapter. After years of being trampled, slain, and having everything taken away from them, The Black Armada had taken something back. It felt almost too easy to Seongwoo. To think that years running at sea could all come to such a neat conclusion in such a relatively short amount of time. In a matter of months with relatively little bloodshed, they had taken Crescene. 

 

All of this ought to have made Seongwoo happy, but he could not shake the devil from his shoulder. It reminded him that all things came at a price. He wondered if he had already paid the price, or if the devil had yet to fully collect. A lingering fear caused him to think the latter.

 

“Seongwoo,” Taeseob’s soft voice snapped the Captain out of his contemplations. 

 

“Right! Right- sorry. What is it you were saying, Taeseob?”

 

The blond gave Seongwoo a reassuring squeeze on the knee, “Never mind that.” He shook his head and glanced pointedly across the fire. A few more figures had emerged. The sky’s vivid shades of lilac and pink had faded. They darkened into tones of indigo and dark azure. Stars shone like crystals catching light above them, and the moon had taken over the sky, silver light gleaming down vibrantly. “Looks like the Father’s preparing his prayer for supper.”

 

“So it seems,” Ong replied, staring at his fellow pirates conversing in the distance, “And I am sure the Admiral is eager to begin expediently.”

 

“Don’t worry,” The first mate reassured his captain, “If anything, they’ll argue about where to erect the statue of you.”

 

“Right, well- Oh, you best get going. Looks like they’re waving you over.”

 

Taeseob glanced over to the others at the fire and hollered a reply. The first mates were always tasked with serving the Council’s captains. Council meetings always started with supper, a meal to which all contributed by providing some sort of bounty (typically food or drink).

 

Seongwoo gave his first mate a nod and a smile. Soon, others would join his side and the pirates would be immersed in conversation and merriment. When all had eaten and drank their fill, then the true ordeal would begin.

 

* * *

 

“What’s this?” Jihoon asked, glancing across the main deck warily. He’d been roused from a bleary slumber just ten minutes prior by one of the Lieutenants. After his encounter with Seongwoo, little had changed about his situation. Lieutenant Miko or Moko or Yua still woke him up every morning and dragged him to work wherever hands were needed. He still slept on a heap of hay covered in crude linen. His ghost haunted him persistently, and nightmares he could never quite recall still shook him awake often.

 

Jihoon did not know how to feel. Occasionally, seething rage would boil up inside of him. It burned his insides ceaselessly demanded an outlet of sorts. He’d feel the sensation squeeze his throat and stab his stomach, but without anywhere to direct it, it quickly wore on him. Other times, insurmountable sorrow took hold of him. The true realization of what he’d done and the fate that had befallen him and his loved ones dawned on him. It crashed down with abrupt weight and force, crushing him and squeezing out every tear it could before he passed out.

 

Then, there was resignation.

 

Numbness came over the former General, dulling even the loss of Daniel and Guanlin. His General’s logic emerged, giving him rationalizations for life. He knew that, ultimately, the Captain held the reigns to his fate. No amount of fury or despair could change that. He could cry himself to exhaustion but that did nothing to change his circumstances. So, the prisoner resigned himself. He waited. Perhaps opportunity for an escape or better life would arise, he thought; however, that opportunity seemed far, far away. Jihoon wondered what would happen if he went home. Was there a home to return to? All the questions floated in his head idly, but he pursued none of them with much fervor. He knew damn well that his fate for the foreseeable future had been sealed. He’d been captured and forced to work. He was not a General, a noble, or even a free man; he was a prisoner and laborer. Kicking up a fuss only did more harm than good when surrounded by the enemy. 

 

Lieutenant Yua had unceremoniously yanked the prisoner from his holding and dragged him onto the main deck. Initially, Jihoon had thought some other menial task for him had risen. However, when she’d untied him, the prisoner became increasingly confused.

 

Jihoon glanced around again. During the night, few people worked on the main deck. Most of the crew were sleeping in their quarters or messing about in the galley. 

 

“What am I to do- Oh, my, it’s rather dark, isn’t it?” The prisoner’s eyes drifted up toward the sky. With the absence of light on the boat, it made every star above appear to shine even more brightly. The moonlight looked almost as clear as the sun, though the rays it cast were much cooler.

 

“Congratulations,” The Lieutenant said flatly. 

 

Jihoon’s face scrunched into an expression of confusion, “What?”

 

Lieutenant Yua rolled her eyes and repeated herself, “I said, congratulations.”

 

“Wh- Yes, but- but why?” Jihoon’s eyes widened, “I’m not going to walk the plank, am I?” His encounter with Captain Seongwoo came to mind. Mouthing off to a commander never ended well in Jihoon’s experience, and his outburst felt very stupid in hindsight.

 

Yua scoffed, “Hardly. As a matter of fact, today’s your lucky day.”

 

“It… Is?” The former general felt incredibly dubious of that statement. His look had been catastrophic for months. He found it hard to believe that it would upturn aboard the Onyx Vengeance of all places.

 

“Yes. You’ve been granted some privileges - for good behavior, I suppose,” She sounded incredibly unamused. “You’re free to be untethered like your friend during day hours. I still wake you and tell you what to do and where to go.” The Lieutenant narrowed her eyes at the younger man, “And if I even see a hint of dissent, I’ve got the right to kick you off the plank myself.”

 

Good behavior? Privileges? The words whirred about in Jihoon’s head. They sounded unbelievable - like a trap, almost. Had the Captain not disclosed their last encounter to anyone? The entire thing struck Jihoon as suspicious. He tread carefully, inquiring more.

 

“I… Am… Untethered?” He asked. The rope around his wrists and chest had gone limp. Breathing came easier. The constant tying and untying of the rope around his torso and wrists had left impressions on his skin.

 

“For now,” The Lieutenant snapped back.

 

“O-oh, okay. Right. Right,” Jihoon nodded. His mind immediately started reeling with possibilities. He didn’t dare fantasize about escape, but the Vengeance had so many nooks and crannies he’d yet to explore. Gaining knowledge could prove useful in the future. 

 

“Eugh, wipe that weird look off your face,” Yua scoffed.

 

“Right,” Jihoon said dazedly. “Right.” He couldn’t help his wide-eyed glance at the Lieutenant. He waited for lightning to strike or a sword to pierce his gut.

 

“You can… You can walk around, you know,” Yua waved across the deck, “I’m to take you down shortly, but… We figured it best you acclimate when the majority of the crew is not around to heckle or assault you- not that I would stop them,” She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Right,” Jihoon nodded. “I suppose I will- I just- Just um-” He started slowly striding away. His eyes remained fixed on the other. She seemed surprisingly disinterested in his going.

 

The deck’s floorboards creaked beneath his feet. It felt strange to walk without anything holding him back. Jihoon’s head darted in every which direction. The deck looked so much larger when his gaze wasn’t fixed on his feet. Beneath him he could feel the rumblings from below; no doubt caused by the crew bustling around just beneath the surface. Above, the lookouts leaned against their perches in the crow’s nests. 

 

Occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the Lieutenant, Jihoon walked across the deck. A few crew members crossed his path but none dared speak to him. He felt grateful for that. Though he foresaw a few conflicts in his future, he hadn’t quite built up the mental fortitude to fight just yet.

 

That thought alone felt very foreign to Jihoon. Being unprepared to fight.

 

He’d spent so long teetering at the edge, ready to attack no matter what. He nearly felt ashamed at his own hesitance, yet… The idea of getting into it with a group of people who not only loathed him, but outnumbered him, sounded exhausting. No longer did the former general have something to fight for. He had Jisung and Daniel - one who was fine, the other whose condition he feared knowing. Aside from those two and the memory of Guanlin, he had nothing. Only personal pride, but was that worth it? It certainly hadn’t gotten him far with the Captain. He loathed to think of his last conversation with the accursed man. 

 

Jihoon knew he would always shoulder the blame for the terrible fate he’d inflicted on his loved ones. The Captain had been right. Perhaps there would have been a nefarious plot against the King, but had Jihoon not been so prideful, so blind, perhaps it could have been prevented. Regardless, thoughts of the past had plagued Jihoon enough. He’d tired of them, and reflection on what had happened gave him comfort.

 

So, on he walked. Across the deck and around the masts. Unconsciously, he touched everything. He ran his hand along the ropes and the wrought iron, the wood, and the chains. Everything had a grit to it, so unlike Castle Jeon. Jihoon could feel the layers of lacquer and tar that had been slathered on to mend wounds in the wood. He felt the dips in the floorboards and heard them groan beneath his steps. Nothing about the Vengeance was manicured or smooth. It had all been worn down by salt, sea, and time. 

 

Lieutenant Yua watched carefully but kept her distance. Jihoon saw it as a sign that he could proceed as he reached the forecastle steps. He ascended them cautiously, and each one belched and bellowed under his weight. Finally reaching the top, whatever had occupied the prisoner’s mind vanished. He stepped forward in awe, drinking in the moonlit horizon.

 

The view stunned him.

 

Silver moonlight licked at the tips of black water, like glittering diamonds.  From the forecastle, the sky looked more expansive than Jihoon had ever seen it. He leaned against the railing for support, dipping his head back to look at the stars. He’d never busied himself much with the study of the stars. It’d never impacted him as something of importance. Yet, beneath the limitless veil of night, he felt more fascinated by them than ever. They were so many and so far. How had he never noticed before? Even the steady rhythm of the waves sounded more enrapturing from the forecastle. The gentle washing sound filled his ears, drowning out all else.

 

In the distance, a tiny, jagged structure stuck out and from it, a column of smoke rose. Jihoon had overheard crew saying the Captain had gone there. Apparently, Seongwoo wasn’t alone judging by the size of the fire.

 

Suddenly, Jihoon felt a chill. A shiver ran down his spine. His heart stopped momentarily and his entire body tensed up. Grasping the railing with a tight grip, Jihoon swallowed hard. He could feel somebody’s eyes on him - and not the lieutenant’s. No, he thought, this is something else. Something more ethereal or otherworldly. 

 

It was his ghost.

 

Jihoon’s head whipped over his shoulders with eyes wide. He’d suspected that he would face a shifting shadow or even a rodent. His mouth fell open.

 

He hadn’t expected to come face to face with Guanlin.

 

“Guanlin?” The word dropped out of Jihoon’s mouth without intention. He turned to face his ghost, air struggling to remain in his lungs.

 

The visage of Guanlin merely responded with wide eyes. Apparently he - or it - had been surprised too. It even opened its mouth to say something but nothing came out. He - it - looked conflicted. Conflicted but alive; Jihoon would graciously take alive. If only he could believe it.

 

“Guanlin?” Jihoon asked again, trying to sound more steady.

 

Guanlin - or his spirit, Jihoon still hadn’t come to a conclusion - pressed his lips shut. Without warning, the tall body turned heel and bolted. 

 

“Guanlin!” Jihoon called out. Without hesitation, he gave chase.

 

Things blurred for the prisoner. He saw no deck or stars or stairs, only the back of his beloved concubine. He wondered if God was playing some sort of joke on him or if his bad diet at sea had caused him hallucinations. Whatever caused the apparition, it made no difference to him. He had to chase it, to make peace with it. With him.

 

“Guanlin! Come- come back here!” Jihoon chased across the main deck. Guanlin’s long form bobbed and weaved between barrels and coils of rope. 

 

“Whoa-!” The prisoner’s frenzy had alerted the Lieutenant, and she joined the chase as well. “You! Prisoner! Where are you running off to!? What’d I tell you?!” 

 

“Guanlin! My Guanlin!” Jihoon ignored the woman, chasing the other’s back. Just minutes of running spent the man’s meager energy. It wasn’t as if he’d eaten well, and he’d long lost his acclimation to heavy activity. The man’s breaths quickly devolved into pained heaves. “Guanlin! Wait! Let me- let me talk to you! I need to talk- to- to you!” He huffed.

 

“Prisoner! Get back here! Why are you running?!”

 

“Guanlin, wait-!” Jihoon chased. Guanlin’s form ducked behind another mast. Jihoon followed closely, but unfortunately, he’d miscalculated. A coil of rope jutted out ever so slightly from behind the mizzenmast. Rope and feet tangled, resulting in the prisoner’s ungraceful fall onto the creaky boards below. A soft thud sounded out, along with a sharp inhalation from the felled former general.

 

“You! Idiot!” The Lieutenant scolded him upon reaching him moments later. She yanked him up by his shoulder, her face knit into an expression of irritation. “What’d I tell you about acting out? Have you gone mad? Trained men I allow to run, but you? You’ll exact your own demise if you run on an open deck!” She gave him a rough shove.

 

“I- I saw him,” Jihoon muttered. He glanced behind the mizzenmast manically.

 

“Saw who? You realize how big our crew is?”

 

“No- no he is- was my- my- Guanlin,” The prisoner said, pupils shifting around frantically. “He was right- right over there he ran-” Jihoon broke out of the Lieutenant’s hold and stumbled over to the other side of the mizzenmast. He waved her over, “He’s right here!”

 

The Lieutenant stomped behind him, clearly displeased with her glorified governess duties. She glanced around before furrowing her brows at the man in front of her.

 

“Who exactly is right here?”

 

Jihoon turned around and his face went slack, “He… He was right there.” He muttered. Indeed he had been right there. Yet… There wasn’t a soul to be found, not even a specter or spirit. Only open deck greeted the prisoner’s eyes. 

 

Yua sighed, “I’m sure you thought you saw someone. Happens all the time at sea. Lots of noises and shadows moving around at night.”

 

“Right,” Jihoon came down from his panic, “Of course.”

 

“Settle down a bit and you’ll be fine. Make sure you’re breathing right or else you’ll get a lot more visions like that,” The Lieutenant said. “Acquaint yourself with main deck a bit more, then it’s back to chains for you.”

 

Jihoon nodded affirmatively. Slowly, he paced away and did as the woman told him. His heart still pounded in his chest, but he willed his breathing to settle. Despite how fervently he’d called after Guanlin’s visage, Jihoon had no idea what he would have said. What was there to say? “Sorry I doomed you?” “Sorry I invited the snake into our garden?” or perhaps just “Sorry.” Whatever those words may have become, it mattered not. The spirit or hallucination had passed. He felt certain that one day he would have to face Guanlin, be it the spirit, the boy, or the memory of him. Coming face to face with his likeness made Jihoon realize: he wasn’t quite ready just yet. 

 

Still, what shook Jihoon most was not what he’d seen, but how real it felt. 

 

* * *

 

The bonfire at The Rock’s center roared. Its flames painted the faces surrounding it in amber light. The pig roasting over it had been removed long prior and their meal well past. A giddy buzz of warmth from good food and alcohol floated in the air like an aura. It surrounded The Black Council, nearly isolating them from the outside world. When the moon neared the sky’s peak, the Council knew it time to begin. Signaling just that, the Admiral - highest commander in all of the Black Armada - stood up.

 

All conversation died down quickly, and all eyes fell upon her. She stood upright, nodding to regard the Council. Her small frame did nothing to diminish her imposing quality. Pirates tended to dress to their tastes regardless of decorum, and the Admiral was no different. Her penchant for traditional military wear set her tastes apart, however. Though dyed ink black, one could see the embroidered jacket and epaulettes nodded to her history as a naval officer.

 

She spoke clearly, projecting across the fire, “Hello esteemed Council members. Thank you all for coming to what will be one of the last meetings of the Black Council as we know it,” She smiled widely but remained prim and composed. “It is an immense privilege to stand here among such brave souls. This is a proud, defining moment in the history of the Armada. The decisions made here will change the course of our history as we know it. It is our responsibility to shape the future for our children and their children. There will be turmoil and more battles to come, of that I have no doubt. However, if the past decades have shown me anything, it is that together we do more than rise to a challenge. We ascend to heights far beyond any obstacle in front of us. Right?”

 

“Right!” A chorus of yells responded from the captains and their first mates.

 

The Admiral grinned, “I  _ said _ : right?”

 

“Right!” The Council hollered again with increased fervor.

 

“That is right,” She said, nodding. “Colonizing Crescene is no small task, but that is why we are here. We have survived long enough. It is time to live.”

 

“Yeah!!” “Here, here!” “Right!” Another round of responses roused from the Council.

 

“Very well,” The Admiral looked incredibly satisfied. She eyed the Council with fondness for a moment. When the ruckus had quieted, she resumed speaking, “As I’d said before: colonizing Crescene is no small task. We need not waste time lest we lose more moonlight. Roll call!” The Captains sat up straighter, each preparing for their name to be called. It was customary to start Council meetings with the Admiral’s regards followed by a tally of who’d made it. Typically, few Captains met on the Rock at once; but, be it the Admiral’s military roots or perfection-driven personality, she always deemed it necessary. Seongwoo’s eyes followed the Admiral’s words, glancing at each captain as they were called.

 

“Captain Hyuna of the Sable Sails,” The Admiral said curtly.

 

“Aye!” Hyuna responded, lifting a bottle of some sort of spirit. She took a swig as if the Admiral had called a toast. In honesty, her presence surprised Seongwoo. Had the meeting been called for anything less important, no doubt she would have shirked her duty. The swashbuckling woman had little care for what others had to say or tell her. Even so, she respected the Admiral. Hyuna’s goodwill for her people and crew kept her just enough in line for her to be in the Council. 

 

“The Brunet’s Captain Yunho,” The Admiral called to Yunho.

 

“Present!” Yunho replied chipperly, giving a wave. Typical of him to be so warm. It seemed almost comical given the seriousness of the meeting. Of course, solemnity had never particularly dissuaded Yunho from being jubilant before.

 

The Admiral continued, “Captain Amber of the Rouge Raven.”

 

“Here,” Captain Amber answered with a nod. By her side sat her first mate, Luna. The two commanded a rather small crew, but they were incredibly fierce. Seongwoo knew little about Amber, but from what he’d heard the woman had an unquenchable thirst for life itself. She seemed to want everything she could get her hands on; not out of avarice but adventure.

 

“Father Siwon, Captain of the Slate of God,” The Admiral called next. The Father had been standing next to her, and he nodded in response.

 

“Present,” Father Siwon replied. Of all members of the Council, Seongwoo found Siwon the most fascinating. He spoke like a devout man of cloth, but the tattoos and scars he bore told stories far from those in the bible. Other crews in the Armada spoke of him almost as a folk character: the righteous warrior of God. He required his entire crew to attend weekly sermons on the main deck and the Slate had a dedicated chapel. His first mate, Leeteuk, could allegedly quote any bible verse from memory. Yet, they were among the fiercest in the Armada. Seongwoo had once heard that after slaughtering their enemies, there was an intense mourning process involving hours of prayer and fasting. Yesung used to be a member of Siwon’s crew before captaining the Vengeance, but he refused to tell any tales. All Ong knew for certain was that he would never, ever dare cross the man. 

 

“Captain Ong Seongwoo of The Onyx Vengeance,” The Admiral looked at Seongwoo pointedly. All eyes shot to the triumphant captain with interest.

 

“H-here!” Seongwoo chirped.

 

The Admiral’s eyes lingered on Seongwoo, but she proceeded, “Very well, then! For those of you not informed, Captain Qri is not in attendance due to her most crucial scouting mission. She and the crew of The Obsidian Tiara send their regards. I expect correspondence from her soon confirming the state of Crescene prior to our arrival. Falcons will be sent as soon as possible. With that, I conclude my opening remarks and ask that Father Siwon lead us in our opening prayer.”

 

Siwon gave a nod before speaking himself, “Thank you, Admiral Boa.” He turned to the Council instructing them to do as they had many times before: “Please join your hands and bow your head as we pray.” All seated did just that, clasping hands with the person nearest. Seongwoo held Taeseob’s hand with one of his, the other extended toward Changmin who sat on his other side. The priest’s soft voice echoed out across the stillness of the night sky:

 

“Oh, heavenly father, we thank you for thy grace. How great the abundance of thy goodness is to bring us all here once more, alive and well. 

 

Lord, we offer unto thee our burdens and pains, our most heinous sins; see to it that they are burned, consumed, ousted by your glorious love so that we may start this journey anew, reborn.

 

With thy grace, please bless us with thy wisdom. Let thy will be ours, guide us toward what is most righteous so that we may best serve you, Lord. Grant us thy strength and protection in our coming trials, and give us thy graciousness so that we may show our enemies the mercy you have shown us.

 

Amen.”

 

“Amen,” A low murmur came out in response. Seongwoo swore he could see Hyuna roll her eyes from the corner of his vision. Part of the Armada’s draw was its fairness - not everyone had to share the same values. Though for her sake he hoped Siwon hadn’t caught her.

 

With opening words out of the way, Admiral Boa could call upon Seongwoo at any time to report his mission. He knew with certainty that the other captains had been eagerly awaiting his recountence as well. The moment the prayer had ended, eyes began drifting toward Seongwoo. Nerves began bubbling up in his chest again. Thankfully, the Admiral spoke before anyone dared make any direct inquiries.

 

“A beautiful prayer as always, Father,” She said to the priest. Siwon gave a grateful smile before sitting down again. “As I had said before: we have much to discuss. I believe most pressing is our delegation of resources. We want our docking to go as smoothly as possible, especially given that we do not have our most recent account of Crescene’s shore condition. Should we need to erect a few places to dock in the interim, we must have the resources there at the time. A failure to properly execute this will hinder our progress immensely.”

 

Her talk of resources and delegations nearly caused Ong to sigh with relief. He agreed wholeheartedly (and not just because it benefitted him). His mission had past and gone successfully. Its merely presented value as a story in the present. Getting Crescene’s colonization as orderly as possible held first priority. He felt silly for working himself up into such a state of distress. 

 

The Admiral continued speaking, “It is crucial we time the arrival of resources properly. Working under the assumption that Crescene is not a functioning port, we will be prepared for the worst of scenarios. I shall start with The Brunet - Captain Yunho, report on your lumber supplies and transport…”

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon clamped a hand over his mouth to suppress his snorts. Jisung tiptoed behind him, his own lips pressed shut determinedly. The two snuck across one of the rooms of the crew quarters. They tiptoed between hammocks - many of which were occupied at that moment.

 

Since they had been reunited, the Lieutenants had been much more lenient on Jisung; it came to Sungwoon as an immense blessing. Be it their care for married couple or desire to shirk duties of watching the former Advisor, Sungwoon hardly cared. He’d been granted idle time with his husband, something he scarcely had even prior.

 

When Sungwoon had learned of Jisung’s sleeping arrangement, he’d been rather upset. He’d even raised a fuss about his husband being treated like a prisoner. Then he’d recalled that his husband was, in fact, a prisoner. After sneaking some grog to Jisung and a few rounds of cards in the galley, Sungwoon had concocted a genius idea:

 

The two could steal some of the cushions from the crew quarters and put them in Jisung’s cell.

 

While such a thing sounded good in theory, with alcohol freely flowing in both of their bodies, it presented more of a challenge than anticipated. After nearly crashing onto the floor and waking half the crew, the two managed to procure some pillows from an unoccupied hammock. Sungwoon had then decided he ought to stuff them down his shirt to avoid detection. Even though the lower decks were hardly lit. Jisung thought that his husband looked incredibly ludicrous with pillows stuffed down his shirt, hence the badly suppressed laughter.

 

Sungwoon led Jisung across the quarters, groping the wall for an indication of a door. When he finally found it he pulled on the handle gently.

 

_ “Crrrreeeeaaaaakkkk.” _

 

Another eruption of stifled laughs ensued. In the still of night, the groaning wood sounded thunderous. Terrified of getting caught, the two scurried out as soon as the door gave enough allowance. Sungwoon quickly shut the door behind them, and another wave of giggles overtook the two.

 

“Stop it- stop- shhh!” Jisung whispered, his face scrunched up with humor.

 

“You- you’re the one laughing,” Sungwoon replied. “Hush! If the crew finds out we’ve smuggled pillows they will have us walk the plank! Now go- go!” One arm held the pillows beneath his shirt in place, and he used the other to smack Jisung on the ass.

 

“I am not a horse,” Jisung slurred, moving down the narrow corridor.

 

“You act like one. I spur you and you move faster. Just like a horse!” Sungwoon punctuated the statement with another slap on the ass. Jisung snorted but kept on going. The two made a wobbly trip down rickety stairs and a few more corridors before reaching where Jisung slept. Apparently, one of the Lieutenants was due to check on the man shortly, but nobody had come looking for him yet.

 

The door to Jisung’s place of holding opened with more squeaks and groans and the couple nearly fell through it. Sungwoon clumsily kicked the worn thing closed behind them before letting go of the pillows he’d been holding. The cushions plopped onto the ground unceremoniously which elicited even more laughs. Their laughter ricocheted loudly across the confined space. The two drunkards teetered about, throwing their bounty atop the hay that Jisung normally slept on. When the pillows had been tossed into a semblance of order, the two collapsed on top of them in a heap of giggles.

 

Warmth washed over Sungwoon. The pleasant tingle of alcohol ebbed and flowed inside of him. It blurred the planks of wood into an amorphous, brown mass vaguely lit by lanterns. Jisung’s arm wrapped around the shorter man, pulling him close. Sungwoon hadn’t even realized he’d laid so close to the other. He supposed it was reflex, to nestle up to Jisung in such a way. It felt nice to finally be beside his husband once more - even given their circumstances.

 

Sungwoon scooted up slightly so he could face Jisung. A comely flush had settled across Jisung’s cheeks, and his eyes looked darker than obsidian. His plush lips had parted ever so slightly. They looked so inviting to Sungwoon. It dawned on the man just how long it had been since he’d indulged in the mere pleasure of kissing the man he loved.

 

So he did.

 

He cupped Jisung’s face, pressing their lips gently together. Ecstasy radiated from his lips down his throat and into his chest. It seeped deep into his flesh and bones. Sungwoon was not sure if his lightheadedness resulted from the grog or the sensation of kissing Jisung. It hardly mattered. All that he cared about was the other’s lips, hot and pliant beneath his. 

 

Sungwoon wanted more. He lapped at the other’s lips, pressing his tongue between them. Jisung yielded gleefully. Sungwoon could feel the other sigh happily against his mouth. Their bodies pressed against one another and heat surrounded them like an aura. The two relished in one another for an indiscernible amount of time. Alcohol tended to do that, to cause time to lapse in completely imperceptible ways. Happiness buzzed throughout Sungwoon’s body ceaselessly. It remained even when the two eventually separated for much needed breath.

 

“I love you Sungwoon,” Jisung mumbled fondly. He’d had too much, but Sungwoon knew the statement to be true. 

 

“I love you too, Jisung,” Sungwoon answered, his tone just as saccharine.

 

“Mn… I’m sorry, love,” Jisung slurred. He hugged Sungwoon closely, pressing sloppy kisses atop the other’s head. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” Sungwoon’s face pressed into a puzzled expression. What in the hell did Jisung have to apologize for?

 

“For getting us into such a mess like this- on this ship, I mean.”

 

“Jisung, I love you. I would follow you to the ends of the Earth, and I told you-”

 

“No. Stop it. Shh, you- you let me finish,” The former advisor rambled drunkenly. Luckily for him, Sungwoon thought he was rather cute when drunk. Otherwise, his former concubine would have found him incredibly irritating. “You- Look. You… Would not be here in this situation if it was not for my- my influence. Now look where we are.”

 

“We are together. That’s what matters most to me.”

 

“We- we are, aren’t we? That’s good. Yes, but,” Jisung sighed, “But we could be better, couldn’t we?”

 

“I suppose there are always greener pastures elsewhere- or so they say. We never had animals on our farm…”

 

“Darling. We just had to steal pillows m-m’dear. Listen. We stole pillows.”

 

“Yes, my sweet, I am aware. I was present,” Sungwoon chuckled.

 

“Yes, but- but we never had to steal pillows before. Now we do. That’s bad- innit?”

 

“It is best we not worry so much. Things will change soon. There is to be an island and- and they will build and- perhaps we can start new-”

 

“Shh-shhh, no, my little fairy… No, you deserve… You deserve so much. You deserve so. Much,” Jisung shook his head emphatically. He grabbed Sungwoon’s cheeks and forced the other’s eyes to meet his own. Drunkenly sincere, he continued speaking, “You deserve a castle. And fine things. And- and your funny little concoctions for your face. I promise you- I- I promise you we will find our way… Find a way back to there.”

 

“What?” Sungwoon still felt lost. Jisung’s rambling combined with Sungwoon’s own compromised mind made things difficult to process.

 

“We will going to find a way back there- I are- We. Are. Going. To. Find a way back,” Jisung finally got his words out decisively. “We will go back to Castle Jeon and get our lives back, you and I. I’m not sure how just yet, but- but one day… It shall happen. I promise you, I’ll never forget.”

 

Sungwoon’s face fell. He finally got it.

 

“My- my love,” He replied, uncertainty stewing in his gut, “Please do not think such- such risky things.”

 

“No,” Jisung refused, “I will think risky things. We will get our old life back, go home-”

 

“Who is to say if we can?” Sungwoon asked, his eyes wide. He swallowed hard, needling panic rising in his throat, “How do we know if there- if there is a life for us waiting? For all we know they’ve moved on-”

 

“They cannot move on. I am the Advisor and you my ward!”

 

“Dear, I think it best we- we look forward. Move on. Try to- try to find the best life we possibly can with what we have. Being caught in the past does nothing for us.”

 

“Caught in the past? But I have family and friends. In the present.”

  
Sungwoon opened his mouth to speak but bit his tongue. Jisung did have family - he had parents and a little sister who’d been at court at a castle abroad. He had people back in the Kingdom, probably worried sick. No, Sungwoon realized, they were not worried. They were mourning.

  
In contrast, Sungwoon did not have anyone to mourn for him - save for a few servants perhaps. Did his grandfather even know he was alive? Or dead? Or missing? Did he even care? Sungwoon’s expression soured.

 

“Mn…” Jisung pouted. He narrowed his eyes at Sungwoon briefly before conceding. “Fine.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said fine,” Jisung said.

 

“Wh- Fine to- to what?”

 

“Fine to whatever you want, my dear.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“Come here,” Jisung squeezed the other even more closely. He nearly suffocated Sungwoon with his embrace. “I will do whatever my husband desires for I love him so much.”

 

“Jisung…”

 

“I am your family and you mine,” The prisoner said ultimately as if it was written in scripture. “Home will be you. You are my home.” He pressed another kiss atop Sungwoon’s head.

 

“Jisung?” Sungwoon asked. He blamed the grog for the tears wetting his eyes.

 

“Yes, my fairy?” Jisung responded.

 

“Let’s sleep,” Sungwoon said.

 

“Right here? Would the Lieutenant be cross?”

 

“I don’t care. I will take the punishment.”

 

“Well… That’s a splendid idea, then,” Jisung yawned. “Because I am just- so tired and you are just… Perfect here, aren’t you?” He shifted around slightly, cuddling up to Sungwoon until he grew comfortable.

 

“Far from it,” Sungwoon chuckled wryly. “Far from it… Good night, my love.”

 

“Good night,” Jisung pressed one more kiss on Sungwoon’s head before his eyes shut.

 

Sungwoon hadn’t realized just how fatigued he was until his husband began nodding off next to him. Soon, weight pulled at his eyelids willing them down. He doubted that anyone would come for the pair, the crew seemed to trust him and tolerate Jisung well enough. A tiny thorn of worry remained in Sungwoon’s heart, poking him slightly. The sensation came more as a small irritation than a deep wound, but it still vexed him slightly. He prayed no resentment would come from the circumstances they’d found themselves in.

 

The circumstances he’d helped exact.

 

* * *

 

“-we’ve ample ammunition for any threat,” Captain Amber said. Admiral Boa had been addressing each Captain to discuss their duties for the settling of Crescene. It had gone by incredibly fast to Seongwoo. He felt as if the others had been speaking for ten minutes. With Amber’s closing remarks, it would be his turn to discuss preparations. 

 

Aside from the bounties of Castle Jeon, he’d been tasked with bringing little more than his crew. He commanded one of the largest in the Armada and the Admiral hadn’t wished he be bogged down with much more than that. Unfortunately, the less one is tasked with doing, the more they are expected to perfect what they had been trusted with. Dealing with the Kang prisoners was among the list of things under his control. The potential reception of his doled out punishment had caused him unrest for a long, long time.

 

“Good,” Admiral Boa said, nodding to Amber. “With you surveying the surrounding seas, I’ve no doubt we will be safe.”

 

“Of course, Admiral,” Amber replied. 

 

Just instants after she shut her lips, eyes immediately shifted to Seongwoo. The Vengeance’s Captain shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. Every eye on him had a weight to it, a pressure. It was as if everyone knew it was his turn to speak. The Admiral followed only her own intuition, which left all guessing: when would she speak to him? Unfortunately for Seongwoo, his time was up. The bell tolled at that moment. All too soon, the Admiral’s followed, and she looked at Seongwoo expectantly.

 

“Ong Seongwoo,” She said in her formal, stately tone, “Captain of The Onyx Vengeance, son of the Commander of Crescene-” Her gaze pierced the Captain’s eyes. They delved into the dark orbs as if desiring to flesh out every last thought and emotion for the sake of knowledge. “-You have recently returned from a most risky mission, have you not?”

 

Initially, no response came from Seongwoo. His mind lagged slightly, too paralyzed with dread and worry to function. After a few moments of feeling the sting of others looking at him, he managed a response.

 

“Yes, Admiral,” He responded, hoping he did not sound how he felt. 

 

“And here you are, before us in one piece,” Boa nodded, evaluating the man sitting on the log across the fire.

 

“It appears so,” Seongwoo said, sitting up straighter.

 

A grin broke across the Admiral’s lips, “I believe a thank you is in order - not only from myself but from all of us. Right?” She said.

 

“Right!” “Yes!” “That’s right!” “Yeah!” The Council hollered in response.

 

“Yes,” The Admiral once again took reigns on the discussion, “On behalf of myself, the Council, and all crew enlisted in the Armada: we thank you. It is not without your courage that we could meet here today for such a triumph.” 

 

Seongwoo’s ears and cheeks stung. Luckily, the low light of flame and moonlight obscured anybody from viewing his shame. His peers touted him as some sort of hero; yet, thinking of his time in Castle Jeon, he’d been far from it. He’d hardly done a thing. While they saw the result, he knew that above all else, he’d merely acted as a distraction for King Daniel. Of course, he dared not say so. If a crowd of drunk swashbucklers saw fit to call him a hero, he thought it unwise to disagree.

 

“You need not thank me. I merely did my part,” Seongwoo said hoping to sound respectful but not ungrateful. 

 

“Humbleness is a virtuous trait, would you not agree, Father?” The Admiral turned to Siwon. He flashed her a grin, nodding with satisfaction. Facing Ong again, Boa continued, “I understand that not all of you were privy to the details of Captain Ong’s mission. That was because - at the time - disclosing it could compromise the operation. No doubt you were relayed the instructions on your part, but I understand some are confused as to how the operation had been executed. Seongwoo, kindly give those present a brief as well as the most recent developments with your… New cargo.” She quirked an eyebrow at the last part; Ong’s heart nearly imploded at the gesture alone.

 

Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, Ong did as he’d been instructed, “Well, I- I suppose I ought to start from the beginning. It all started with a contact. I struck a deal with someone close to Kang court- very close. After verifying their trustworthiness, we negotiated terms. I worked from the inside while my contact drove a wedge between the King’s associates and nobility. When all was in place, my men - who’d moved in shortly prior - and myself removed King Daniel- along with a couple of his most loyal men. In exchange for a clean extraction, we received the deed to Crescene- that, you all know. An evenly negotiated trade. We are indebted to nobody and them not to us. There is no necessity for us to ever be in contact with the Kingdom again unless we desire to trade or traverse. Clear?”

 

A few of the Captains nodded; Hyuna spoke up, grunting, “What’d you do with the King then? Is he hanging from the mast?” She took a sip from the bottle she held and raised her eyebrows in question.

 

Seongwoo’s heart stopped beating. There it was. The question he’d dreaded, the one he knew his peers would ask. His pupils danced about involuntarily, eyeing the others. Paranoia seeped into his veins and whispered in his ear. It told him that everyone had the same question and that they all were staring, waiting for an answer.

 

“I must say, Seongwoo,” Admiral Boa commented, “I, too, am curious. What is to be the fate of our guests from Castle Jeon?”

 

“Have you seriously not killed them yet?” A voice cropped up.

 

“They’re obviously in his brig,” Another replied.

 

“I say we kill the bastards and let their heads decorate the shore on pikes,” Hyuna said. A few chuckles and mutters of agreement sounded out in the remark’s wake. Seongwoo nearly doubled over imagining it. 

 

“They are prisoners,” Yunho piped up, “Ought they not be treated as such? Let them rot in their cells, that’s what I’d say.” More people nodded and commented in agreement.

 

“A cell is too good for that King and his minions,” Amber hollered above the others. “I say we torture them. Don’t let them know the peace of death.”

 

“Yeah!” “That’s more like it.” People began weighing in with their own opinions. First mates piped up with ideas of lashings or being tethered to horses. Captains competed to come up with the vilest of punishments. All the while, Seongwoo’s stomach roiled and turned with worry. He desired to speak out, but the anxious lump lodged in his throat didn’t allow it.

 

“Hang them by their feet above the trees!” “Clearly-” “Just have them walk the plank.” “-a life of piety is most suitable-” “Where can we find some sharks to feed them to?” “-they ought to spend their lives serving God, stripped of their worldly wiles and-” “Can we enslave them as they did us?”

 

Firelight painted menacing shadows on the faces of his colleagues, and their voices upturned into a shrill. The people before Seongwoo rapidly discombobulated. Words devolved into vague noises. Only the hum of panic in the captain’s ears prevailed above the others. He had no idea what his face looked like. Could they see the nerves beneath his mask of calm? How ill he felt?

 

“-en I’ll take one as my own sex slave!” “-ey must repent for their sins!” “We can maroon ‘em-” “Let one live, just one-” “They can die for all I-” “Kill them? Why’ve we not killed them? They never hesitated to kill our kin-”

 

“Enough!” Admiral Boa’s voice rang out above the rest, clear as a bell. Seongwoo let out a breath that had been caught in his lungs. Immediately, all went mute. The Admiral eyed her Council with mild displeasure. When the residual ring from their shouting had left the air, she spoke, “Need I remind you precisely who among us put his life on the line for his people? For all of us! He may be the youngest among us, but you  _ will  _ respect him. Without him, we would not have Crescene. The Kang courtiers are  _ his  _ prisoners, and they will be dealt with as he sees fit- given that I approve, of course.” The other members of the Council looked down sheepishly.

 

“Captain,” The Admiral said, looking at Seongwoo, “Please, tell us your thoughts.”

 

Seongwoo took a deep breath. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket and stood up. Deliberately steadying his voice and straightening his back, he regarded the Council. After long consideration, he’d finally decided what he wanted to say to them.

 

“Thank you, Admiral,” Seongwoo started. He looked out toward the others, “As you all know, I currently have Kang Daniel, Yoon Jisung, and Park Jihoon in custody. That is- the King, his closest Advisor, and a high ranking General. They have been put to work on my ship. My crew and I are grooming them to be competent laborers. When we settle on Crescene, we will need all the aid we can get. I see no reason to waste fit, able bodies.” Ong could detect the gazes of the council on him. Some looked curious while others appeared wholly dissatisfied. He shoved his anxieties away, continuing:

 

“Many of you are right about their people. Perhaps the Kang military would not hesitate to kill us on the spot, torture us-” He swallowed nervously, “-or even enslave us. However, we are not Kang people. Yes, we, too, can be ruthless. We can tether their limbs to horses and have them severed. We could beat them within an inch of their mortality and make them beg for their lives…

 

Or we could show mercy.

 

We could extend them the mercy that they never gave our people. If given the chance, why not be better than them? Is that not why we have taken to the sea for so long? To make something greater?” Seongwoo let out a breath. Speaking soothed his worry slightly. “These people were a part of something that tore apart entire societies. They destroyed our homes- our nations and- and cultures. That is why I believe it most fitting that they help us to rebuild ours.”

 

Silence hung heavily in the air. It nearly stifled the sound of waves and crackling fire. Seongwoo remained firm, waiting for something - anything - in response. Everyone looked stunned, and Ong could not tell if that boded well for him or not. The Vengeance’s Captain remained statue still, unwavering. Would they laugh? Yell? Scold?

 

“Captain,” The Admiral’s voice cut the quiet like a dagger. Despite the fire between them, her eyes met Seongwoo’s without wavering. Her lips stretched into a small grin and she nodded, “I believe that is a most suitable consequence for those people. I approve your punishment for the Kang prisoners. However- I believe we all agree any indiscretion from them shall result in something much more severe.”

 

“Of course,” Seongwoo nodded. His entire body vibrated. “Any other concerns, Admiral?”

 

“From myself, no,” Boa replied. “Should our other Council members have any other  _ relevant  _ concerns, do express them now. In an orderly fashion.” A few Council members exchanged glances.

 

Captain Amber spoke up, “What’s to stop them from squawking or- or mounting an escape of sorts? How can we be so certain that they won’t retaliate somehow- turn their sea dogs on us?” The concern had legitimacy, but given the nature of the operation, Seongwoo felt assured nobody would come for the lost three. Before he could answer, Hyuna cut in:

 

“With what navy?” The surly lady pirate asked. A quiet round of chuckles sounded out among the Council. “Few navies on this earth can rival our Armada, and the Kang Kingdom sure as hell isn’t one of them.” 

 

Amber nodded, seemingly accepting the answer, “A fair point. I s’pose it’s just a bit hard to believe, all of it,” She grinned, “We’re really getting Crescene. And- and nothing can stop us this time.”

 

“Any other concerns?” The Admiral asked, eager to hasten the proceedings. When no captain came forward, she nodded, turning to Seongwoo once more. “Very well then, the matter of the Kang prisoners is settled.”

 

“Thank you, Admiral,” Seongwoo felt his entire body vibrate. From his guts to the surface of his skin, tingling pricks of excitement scuttled about frenziedly. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or relief. Slowly, he sunk back down onto his seat atop the log. Taeseob shot a hand out to squeeze Seongwoo’s reassuringly.

 

The Admiral moved on quickly to the next subject,“Next, then, is the matter of inward scouting for the island. I’ve had my cartographer draw up a map of Crescene given our most recent intelligence - as we all know it lacks for accuracy due to…” Her voice entered Seongwoo’s head as a drone. Disbelief rendered him unable to hear anything other than a hum. 

 

Things had gone right. Things had actually gone right.

 

* * *

 

Splotches of orange and gold seeped into the sky from the horizon. The once roaring fire in the middle of The Rock had long diminished to a collection of smoldering embers. Seongwoo had already watched two ships depart in the distance, expediently making their way toward Crescene. The few remaining had either been too drunk to cast off or had gotten caught up in chatting. Though the sun hadn’t even ascended into the sky, Seongwoo already felt its warmth teasing the air. Taeseob yawned next to him, looking wistfully toward the Vengeance.

 

It had been a long night.

 

After discussing the Castle Jeon mission, talk had once again transitioned into logistics. Admiral Boa had already sent her flagship, Domina Tenebris, ahead of them all to meet Qri first. Captain Qri would be waiting for Boa’s first mate, Kahi, with a preliminary scouting report of the anterior terrain and coastal city. The Brunet (Yunho’s ship) was due to rush to Crescene next, being the vessel equipped with the most resources after the Admiral’s. More thorough scouting operations into the island would be held when more crew arrived. The slate of God and Sable Sails would arrive shortly after, loaded with more resources. Captain Amber had been given security duty, set to sail the surrounding seas. The Onyx Vengeance had the youngest crew and had been instructed to arrive last. The Admiral had been insistent on there being a semblance of infrastructure when the fledglings arrived. Being young, they would be tasked with labor more than anything else sophisticated. The late arrival of the Kang prisoners also made for the ease of their assimilation.

 

Everything had been sorted, but it still felt surreal to Seongwoo.

 

After hearing Taeseob yawn loudly for the umpteenth time, Ong decided to take it as a signal to leave. In truth, he hesitated to return to the Vengeance. However, he could not figure out why. Was it nervousness? Disbelief in reality? Did he fear once again being aboard the same vessel as the Kang prisoners? As the Kang prisoner? Unfortunately, he could stall no longer (lest his first mate fall asleep and force him to row them back).

 

Admiral Boa and Father Siwon had been chatting for nearly a quarter hour. The two had known each other long; they’d been founding members of the Council along with Yunho. Seongwoo supposed that the old order was cut from the same cloth. It never surprised him to see them lingering. No doubt Yunho would have been present had he not needed to be so expedient.

 

“-re so excited. You know I have kept my seeds from home all these years,” The Admiral giggled mischievously, nudging the father, “Now I shall finally have good land to plant them on.”

 

Siwon chuckled, “Save a few for the church’s garden, will you?”

 

“I will think about it- Oh, Seongwoo,” The Admiral finally noticed the young captain. “The sun is nearly risen… Have we been idling that long?”

 

Ong gave a courteous smile, “Exchanging memories often makes one lose track of the present. But- yes, we must push off soon.”

 

“Seongwoo,” Father Siwon clapped a hand on Ong’s shoulder, “Before you leave, I must tell you how proud I am of you. You chose a righteous path and for that God will reward you.”

 

Ong smiled back sheepishly, “Th-thank you, Father.”

 

“Yes, I am in agreement,” Admiral Boa said, “You have a kind heart and you followed it. I believe you will receive pushback in the future for this decision but know you have our support. We truly are privileged to have you among our ranks.”

 

“You praise me too much,” Seongwoo responded. If only they knew what had happened, he thought. The Captain wasn’t sure he would have even considered mercy had things gone differently. He tried not to think on it too much. “I am merely acting on duty and- and trying to elevate us beyond our past. We are pirates but not monsters. We don’t need to be like them.”

 

Siwon smiled at Ong, “Well said. May God bless your journey back.”

 

“Good luck, Captain,” The Admiral added, “We shall meet again on Crescene, and… Thank you for following your heart.”

 

“Right,” Seongwoo said. Ironically, his heart felt most weighed down by the implication he drew from her statement. Of course, the woman knew nothing. If she did, she gave no indication. Seongwoo wondered if she - or anyone else - would ever know. “Well, we must be off. Taeseob! The boat!”

 

“Already over here, sir!” Taeseob hollered back. Ong glanced over his shoulder and Taeseob had, in fact, begun pushing their dinghy back into water.

 

“Well, then, we’ll be off,” Seongwoo bid his farewell. The Admiral and Father Siwon both gave a few more parting words before Ong finally wrenched himself away from the two.

 

Another loud yawn sounded out from the first mate as the two pushed off of the sandbar, into the water. The Onyx Vengeance loomed over them in the distance. Though Seongwoo commanded the ship, something about it inspired fear in him. He tried to suppress the feeling of dread fizzing up in his throat. Hopefully, he thought, sleep would mend the swell of nerves.

 

“That went well,” Taeseob broke the tedium of quiet, punctuating his statement with a yawn. 

 

“Yes. I’m… I’m shocked,” Ong replied candidly.

 

“Why?” The first mate asked with a chuckle.

 

“W-well, I… I don’t know. I suppose I feared that- that-”

 

“That people would find out you have a soft spot for the King?”

 

Seongwoo pressed his lips shut. Taeseob was right, but hearing it aloud vexed the captain.

 

“I apologize,” Taeseob said softly, “I am tired. Regardless of any personal affinities… You chose your words well. Hell, I believed them.”

 

“You know,” Ong said, his tone tinged with annoyance, “It wasn’t as if my words were complete fiction. I do believe what I said. Maybe- maybe I do have lingering…” Even acknowledging it out loud wounded Seongwoo, “Lingering affections, but the issues caused by those people would hardly be solved by bloodshed. The more people we have, the faster houses and shops are built. The faster we can start new lives and forget about all of this…”

 

“You need not preach to me, Captain. As long as those three don’t cause trouble, I hardly care what their fate is. Can’t say I like them, but… If you care about them, they can’t be all bad, I suppose,” Taeseob’s tone dropped into a grumble, almost as if his last words were a concession to Ong. Hearing the words instilled the tiniest sliver of hope in Seongwoo. If Taeseob could admit that, perhaps, the Kang people had the possibility of kindness, it was a start.

 

After all, that was how they’d snuck their way into Seongwoo’s heart.


	8. Pain Is Better Than Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER WARNING(s): violence, sexually explicit content

Sun beat down onto the Vengeance’s Deck relentlessly. Summer had ceased its subtle tease and began beaming down onto the Earth in full force. The occasional spray from the ocean gave the slightest respite from the heat, but aside from that all fared for themselves. Crew rushed about the Vengeance’s decks busily beneath the midday sun. Bodies bobbed and weaved around one another, each person set on their own task. Some rolled barrels while others swabbed and scrubbed dutifully.

 

It had been two days since they’d lifted their anchors. Word among the crew was that they were due to dock in just a week’s time. Jihoon had little care for the deeper implications of docking. The mere prospect of land thrilled him enough to match his peers’ excitement. While he had adjusted somewhat to being on a floating collection of planks, he greatly missed the comforts of land. Never had he anticipated missing solid, unmoving ground and plant life so much. He’d been briefed prior on the settlement of the island - Crescene, it was called; but, he knew nothing of the colonization’s scale. It mattered little to him regardless. He had no say in his fate.

 

Even days after exchanging harsh words with the Captain, Jihoon remained untethered. Either the Captain had forgotten or didn’t care. The prisoner saw no reason to question his good will. The time for daring escapes would be later, he’d concluded. Until then, he toed the line. Lieutenant Miko had been his assigned keeper on that particular morning. However, with the loosening of his binds, supervision had loosened as well. 

 

He’d been dragged to the galley to help make biscuits and ration preserves. Miko had watched for a short duration before instructing the other cooks to keep an eye on the prisoner and not “let his cute face seduce you”. Without the added layer of protection, Jihoon made an extra effort to be as cooperative as possible. He did what he was told to the letter, and no matter how dirtily people looked at him, he never said a word. Things had yet to escalate to a physical level for which Jihoon felt grateful. A few utterances he’d overheard involved him being held down and beaten. While he’d taken a personal oath to behave, he had no qualms about defending himself. 

 

Having been set loose, the prisoner ascended the steps to the main deck. Air often grew stuffy beneath the surface, and the fresh breeze helped keep his sickness at bay. The prisoner imagined one of the cooks would find Lieutenant Miko and have him collected. Until then, he opted to find the quietest corner of the main deck and take some solace. 

 

While crew occasionally gave him looks, he remained unbothered. Jihoon had no idea what the bastard Captain had told the people, but he conceded that he appreciated it. Even if it did play into some evil plot that would be exacted in the future. Jihoon had no other option but to take things as they came. All control over his fate had been wrenched from his grasp.

 

Jihoon found a corner toward the back of the ship that saw little traverse. He nestled himself between a cannon and the outer walls of the Captain’s quarters. Sunlight sparkled on the ocean’s surface, and waves idly washed by. A few gulls flew overhead, but aside from that there was little of note. Jihoon had never seen the appeal of the ocean. After days at sea, he’d tired of the sights. It all looked the same to him. Water, sun, and seafoam. He had tired of it.

 

_ “Claaack!” _

 

A loud, metallic noise stirred Jihoon from his dozing, and he turned in its direction instinctively. Two forms a short distance away skipped across the deck, chattering loudly.

  
Their swords clashed with another loud clatter, and laughter ensued. 

 

Jihoon’s eyes blew wide open. The tall, slender form, the hair darker than night and pale skin. That was Guanlin. His Guanlin. His ghost, the boy whose visage had been terrorizing his dreams and haunting him. He was no mere ghost at all, he was real. Moreso, the boy stood just paces away from the prisoner.

 

“Duck!” The other pirate chirped. Guanlin swiftly did as he’d been told, and the pirate thrust a cutlass forward. The dull blade narrowly missed Guanlin’s head. Jihoon nearly had to brace himself at the sight. He grasped the nearest thing his hands could find (a coil of rope) with white-knuckled grip. 

 

Guanlin giggled, straightening up and returning the volley. He lunged forward, bringing the blade up at an angle in a slicing motion. His own cutlass scarcely missed the other.

 

“Too slow!” The pirate taunted, running backward. Both he and Guanlin sparred energetically. Working pirates parted around the pair, apparently uncaring that the two ran amok with blades. Jihoon glanced around to assure nobody watched him. Seeing that nobody particularly cared about him, he tiptoed closer to the two sparring. His eyes tunneled in on his Guanlin as he hid behind a pile of chains.

 

Guanlin brought the sword around into a low swing just barely grazing his partner’s ankles. The partner feigned a pained gasp but quickly recovered. Hopping back, the pirate brought his own blade back and swung down at an angle, hitting Guanlin higher. Well, almost hitting him. Jihoon’s breath stopped up in his throat and his jaw dropped as the blade’s tip caught Guanlin’s shirt slightly. Guanlin, on the other hand, thought it hilarious.

 

“We ought to keep our shirts intact this time!” Guanlin hollered back happily. Jihoon almost fainted at the words. Keep them on? He wondered. Had they shucked their clothing before? The mental image outraged him. Guanlin being stripped down, crossing swords with some crass pirate… It scandalized Jihoon. The prisoner made an effort to breathe steadily in an attempt to fend off his anger.

 

_ “Shiff.” “Clack!” “Shiff.” Shwiff!” _ The sound of swords slicing air and clattering against one another filled the air. Interspersed with the sounds of combat were little yells of triumph and bantering jabs. Jihoon watched on in sheer horror. Yes, the two clearly displayed a sort of foundation of swordsmanship, but their footwork looked sloppy. Combined with the unsteady rocking of a ship, the two put themselves at risk for injury with their slipshod steps. No doubt any slight change in the winds could-

 

“Clack-clak!”

 

“A-aah!” Guanlin clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply. He shook out one of his arms, and his sparring partner dashed to his side. Squinting, Jihoon leaned forward to get a better look at what had happened. Red dripped from Guanlin’s forearm. A sudden sensation of sickness and rage overwhelmed Jihoon.

 

His temper snapped, and he strode over to the two. He gave no consideration to the working crew that he bumped into as he crossed the deck. Curses sounded out in his wake, but the man ignored them. All Jihoon saw was red. The red of Guanlin’s blood and the red anger clouding his vision. He yanked the nameless boy’s arm callously. 

 

Pulling him away from Guanlin, he queried, “What the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Wh- Hey,” The deckboy narrowed his eyes at Jihoon, “Aren’t you one of the Kang bastards?” He pulled his arm back, shooting Jihoon a nasty scowl.

 

Guanlin’s big, brown eyes went wide as the moon; he immediately shuffled over to cut in, anxiety written all over his face, “I- I’ll take care of him,” Guanlin said to the deckboy. He puffed his chest of slightly, looking down at Jihoon, “I know this man.”

 

The deckboy looked satisfied, smirking, “He’s all yours,” He threw his hands up. “Just make sure the Captain doesn’t know you kicked his ass. Later?”

 

Guanlin nodded. He waited for the other to leave earshot before grabbing Jihoon’s sleeve and dragging him to the least crowded corner of the main deck. After finding a cluster of barrels, Guanlin shoved Jihoon behind them, following on his tail. Jihoon’s mind stalled momentarily. It happened. It had really happened. He was not going mad or having delusions or receiving spectral visions. His Guanlin genuinely stood in front of him. He had been present the entire time. His ghost wasn’t a ghost at all.

 

“What the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re doing?!” Guanlin whispered. He crossed his arms indignantly.

 

“Did you just say ‘hell’?” Jihoon felt like an imbecile for letting those be his first words to Guanlin. He could hardly help it given how much it shocked him. What had happened to his sweet Guanlin? The boy in front of him resembled the boy he’d been separated from in appearance only. Even that had changed slightly. Beneath the loose laces of Guanlin’s shirt, Jihoon saw muscle definition he hadn’t before. Sun exposure had darkened his skin and lightened his hair subtly. 

 

Guanlin rolled his eyes, “Is that really what you’ve got to say for yourself? I do not exaggerate in saying that some of the people on this ship want to kill you. They would not hesitate to kick you off the plank themselves before the Captain would even notice you’re gone.”

 

Jihoon heard the words, but listening proved difficult. Guanlin’s presence still felt massively surreal to him. He felt as if he’d stepped into another world completely like it wasn’t his Guanlin speaking to him. He supposed that his world or not, it wasn’t his Guanlin speaking to him anymore. Though his time on the ship had been short, Jihoon admittedly felt different somehow. Not massively so, but things had changed for him. With time to do little more than work and think, he accomplished a massive amount of reflection. No doubt Guanlin had gone through similar changes himself. That wasn’t to mention the influence of the crew or their disgusting Captain. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon blurted out. He knew he had no entitlement to the answer, but curiosity had nearly consumed him up to that point. Guanlin’s annoyed expression softened. His shoulders slacked and he heaved a sigh. Whether out of generosity or resignation, he gave the former general a brief explanation.

 

“I was going to be auctioned off if I didn’t leave with you,” Guanlin replied.

 

“Oh,” Was the only thing Jihoon could think to respond with. It was true, he’d never bothered altering the traditional concubine contract he’d had drawn up for Guanlin. He had never anticipated needing such a clause. Guanlin was never supposed to leave his side, and he had no intention of an early death. Apparently, God had a very different plan in store. Jihoon felt slightly vindicated. Amidst the whirlwind of chaos that had brought him onto a pirate ship, a small mercy had been granted to him. Guanlin had been brought, too. Even when Jihoon knew nothing of the boy’s state, he’d sensed the other’s presence in some visceral way. The prisoner felt as if that had to serve as some sort of sign. 

 

As if they were meant to be together.

 

“Not even an apology?” Guanlin looked cross.

 

Or perhaps God was punishing him, Jihoon thought.

 

“I- I- Uh,” Jihoon felt slightly annoyed that the boy dare demand an apology. For what? It wasn’t as if he had intended to be abducted or killed in the line of duty anytime soon. He’d originally planned to leave part of his estate to Guanlin after the two laid together. How was he supposed to anticipate such an atrocity happening so suddenly? The damn Captain was the person who’d executed an infiltration and capture, not him! 

 

Jihoon shook the distracting thoughts from his head and swallowed his pride, “I apologize.” He said. Making amends with Guanlin took priority over being right at that moment. It wasn’t as if he had a rank to pull, anyway. Clearly, the boy felt wronged, and Jihoon supposed that perhaps there was a validity to his point. “Now, about your arm,” The prisoner rushed to change the subject. He eyed Guanlin’s untreated arm pointedly. Blood had begun to thicken around the scrape, but it still looked ugly.

 

“Wh- This? It’s fine. I’ll rinse it and hit it with some rum.”

 

“You’ll hit it with- what?!” Jihoon gasped and his eyes narrowed, “They don’t allow you to drink that dreadful grog, do they?”

 

“They don’t- what?” Guanlin shook his head in disbelief, “And what if I do?” He crossed his arms.

 

“W-Well,” Jihoon nearly told Guanlin that he wasn’t allowed to. He then remembered that Guanlin no longer needed to listen to a word he said. “It’s disgusting.” He had no idea what else to say. He began to feel rather foolish.

 

“Oh?” Guanlin quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I love it. I love- I love drinking rum and playing drinking games and- and getting drunk with the other boys.”

 

Jihoon’s eyes went wide again, “Y-you-”

 

“We play cards and wager favors and- and other things,” Guanlin pushed the issue insistently.

 

“Of course you do,” Jihoon’s pitch was higher than usual. His reflexive response was to find said “other boys” and strangle them, but being a prisoner that would no doubt get him killed. He opted for clenching his fists instead.

 

“Sometimes we wager a food ration or- or a kiss.”

 

“Did you pull me behind a pile of barrels to tell me of your exploits?”

 

“N-No. No I- I-”

 

“Wait,” Jihoon cut off Guanlin’s fumbling. “Wait… You knew I was on this ship?”

 

“Of course I knew. That’s why I’m here, remember?” Guanlin titled his head confusedly.

 

Jihoon frowned, “Why have you not approached me until now?”

 

“Actually, it was  _ you  _ who approached me-”

 

“That doesn’t change the fact that we have both been at sea for weeks, yet… We are just now speaking. I- I suppose we did part on bad terms, didn’t we?” Memories of that conversation came rushing into Jihoon’s head. Guanlin had been so upset. He’d merely wanted to talk to Jihoon, to understand. Yet, the General had stubbornly refused to elaborate on anything. At the time, he thought the less Guanlin knew, the safer he would be. However, seeing where it had gotten them filled Jihoon with regret. He had thought about their last conversation on many a lonely night in his cell.

 

“Yes, we did,” Guanlin replied. His pupils skittered away sheepishly. The air thickens and quickly grows awkward.

 

“Is that why you haven’t spoken to me? Are you still upset about that?”

 

“What? No! Well, maybe a tad- I- I don’t-” Guanlin wrung a hand through his hair. He took a pause and sighed before speaking again. Eyes fixed on Jihoon’s, he said resolutely, “You are not entitled to an explanation.”

 

Jihoon’s mood swiftly soured, “Excuse me?”

 

“You heard me. I owe you nothing. You are not my-” Guanlin quieted himself as he continued, “-my Master.”

 

“I- I-” Guanlin was correct in the most literal sense. No piece of paper or law on the Vengeance existed that bound the two together. It still stung to hear the words. The denial of ownership was not what upset Jihoon; it was the denial of any connection at all. As if the two hadn’t shared a bed and kissed hundreds of times. Had Guanlin truly left all of that behind with such ease? The mere thought of being dismissed in such a way wounded Jihoon greatly. 

 

“I am-” Jihoon hadn’t the foggiest idea as to what to say. He’d gotten so used to having control over situations in his life. How the hell did people cope when they had none? Mere weeks of being whisked about by the will and callings of other had unraveled him to near madness. He knew himself adept at gently leading people into certain decisions; however, the prospect of coaxing Guanlin into thinking a certain way felt ludicrous. He ought not have had to! His mind labored for the least manipulative way to bring Guanlin to understanding. “This ship’s not safe, you know!”

 

“The ship is not safe?” Guanlin asked, confused. “It’s not? I- I mean to say- I- no place is- is safe… I think.” The two clearly treaded unknown territory. With each word, the two realized more and more just how foreign the concept of standing as near-equals had become.

 

“Oh- so you are a naval expert as well? Along with being a- a drunk and a gambler?” Jihoon needled. Regret immediately shot through him at the rough delivery. What he had meant to express was that Guanlin had spent so little time on a ship, surely he could not adequately judge its structural integrity. 

 

“No,” Guanlin scoffed. “Or- Yes. Maybe? I mean definitely yes.”

 

“I- I didn’t mean- Guanlin, you are not a drunk,” Jihoon corrected. “If you were one of those lush types you’d wreak of alcohol, but you don’t.”

  
“Maybe I bathed?”

 

“On a pirate ship?”

 

“The smell of salt water is very overpowering. It can cover many things.”

 

“Oh spare me- I- Look at your arm, you’re still bleeding,” Jihoon frowned. “Wait- just let me-” He began to reach out toward the other. The prisoner figured his shirt would tear easily enough. It would provide a serviceable bandage until the stubborn boy got it properly mended.

 

“Stop,” Guanlin growled, pulling. “I will allow you to do no such thing.”

 

“To help you?”

 

“To- to control me.”

 

“To what?” Jihoon’s eyes went wide with wonder. Did Guanlin even believe what he was saying? The prisoner certainly could not. While the boy looked doe-eyed he’d never been an outright fool.

 

“I don’t have to do what you say,” Guanlin said obstinately. The prisoner wrung a hand down his face. His patience wore thinner by the second.

 

“Alright,” Jihoon threw his hands up, “Fine, fine. Just- just go along sparring, getting- getting injured and drinking and acting like- like-”

 

“Like a man? Like a regular human being?”

 

“See if I care- what do you mean like a man?! Wh-”

 

“That’s what this really is about, isn’t it? That’s why you cut in. You don’t give a shit about my wellbeing-”

 

“Don’t give a what-?”

 

“You just cannot stand to see me act like- like a man! It must gall you so to see me learning and working and- and doing things because that means,” Guanlin’s voice lowered into a growl, “That one day I’ll be stronger than you. Nothing scares you more than the idea that others around you won’t need you. ”

 

“Who- who told you all of those things?”

 

Guanlin’s jaw dropped and he shook his head in awe, “Even now, as I speak to you directly, you refuse to believe I could- I could think for myself?”

 

“Oh, my apologies,” Jihoon huffed, “It has been months since I’d last seen you- or, well, a boy who looks very much like you, and that boy was- well… He was different! It has been weeks and suddenly you’re-” He gestured vaguely at the other, “I don’t know.”

 

“Acting of my own accord? Doing things  _ you  _ do not like? Things you never let me do?”

  
“You ramble about acting like a ‘man’ - do you truly believe that this is what it means to be a man? To- to disrespect and- sloppily fight and drink and gamble?”

 

“W-well, maybe I do! Maybe I’m figuring it out,” Guanlin stood up straighter. He was always tall, yet it had never occurred to Jihoon as much as it did in that moment.

 

Jihoon laughed wryly; He took a step back and waved to himself, “Alright, then. Hit me.” He smirked.

 

“What?” Guanlin replied.

 

“That’s right. Hit me,” Jihoon invited the other with a grin. “That’s what it means to be a man, isn’t it? To be crude, to fight.”

 

“Mast-” Guanlin’s lips pressed shut. “J-Jihoon,” The syllables came out shakily.

 

“Aha!” Jihoon laughed, “You can’t do it.”

 

“Do you want to be hit?”

 

“Do you want to be a man? Because apparently, that’s what it means. According to you. Since you’re an expert now.”

 

“I never said I was an-”

 

“Well apparently I know nothing, also according to you,” Jihoon did not hold back his bitterness. Apparently, all of their time together had truly been tossed away. It would have galled him less had Guanlin at least had proper mentors. But a lot of pirates? Many of whom were no older than he? It disgusted Jihoon.

 

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” Guanlin clenched his fists. He looked cute when angered. 

 

“Guanlin, please do not think my concern is an effort to- to bar your growth. I merely think that this company is… Questionable.”

 

“Oh, so I know nothing, but you know everything? Need I remind you this ‘company’ had the mercy to let you live.”

 

“To exact some no doubt nefarious plot, I assume. It makes no sense otherwise.”

 

“Oh my God…”

 

“See? You cannot even disagree because I imagine you too have doubts or questions. Despite what you wish to believe - or, what they have told you - I know you well. You’re no fool.”

 

Guanlin frowned but said nothing.

 

“You’re also not a brute,” Jihoon remarked coolly. “Which is why I know you would never actually hit m-”

 

_ “Thwaack!”  _ A fist came in contact with Jihoon’s mug.

 

Force came crashing into the former general’s face without warning. Pain shot through his nose and across his face. In the wake of the initial jolt, dull aches radiated from the center of his face. Jihoon stumbled backward, blinking away the tears that had risen to his eyes. Coughing and sputtering, he labored to catch his breath which had been knocked to the wind slightly.

 

The boy had really punched him square on the nose. Shock came crashing down on Jihoon. Guanlin really had hit him.

 

“Lord in heaven, y-you hit me,” Jihoon gaped. His hands shot to his nose, dabbing delicately. “Oh- Oh my God.”

 

“Shit,” Guanlin hissed. He seemed to snap out of whatever rage had possessed him. The boy rushed to Jihoon’s hunched over form, face the picture of concern. “Shit- I- I’m sorry, I-”

 

“Oh- God, am I? Am I bleeding?” Jihoon squinted down at his fingers. “Am I- Am I- Can you see?” He even turned to Guanlin, showing the boy his wet, red fingertips. “Am I- Look- am I-?”

 

“Ma- J-Jihoon, I’m- I’m sorry,” Guanlin muttered. He seemed to be at just as much of a loss as Jihoon. The prisoner could not stop touching his nose, in disbelief as to what had just occurred. He’d been hit. By Guanlin. And it had actually hurt a little.

 

“I- I made you bleed. Jihoon I’m so sorr-”

 

_ “Thwaack!” _

 

Jihoon swiftly returned the favor, lightly snubbing Guanlin on the nose. He made sure to moderate his force; he’d used just enough so that it hurt while accomplishing little meaningful damage outside of bruising. Just enough to teach a lesson.

 

“Ahh!” Guanlin yelped, jumping back. His jaw dropped, and he looked at Jihoon with fury in his eyes.

 

Jihoon straightened up, shrugging, “See, if you modeled yourself after real warriors instead of swashbucklers, you would know that-”

 

_ “Thwack!” _ Guanlin’s fist flew toward Jihoon again, clipping his jaw.  _ “Thuud!!” _ The boy threw his body on top of the other, sending both of them toward the hardwood beneath. Pain exploded from the back of Jihoon’s skull, and he reeled with dizziness. Guanlin straddled him, lifting a fist to deliver another blow to the prisoner’s face. Just as he intended to lower it, Jihoon caught the other’s wrist. Though a buzz filled his ears, he insistently tried to communicate.

 

“Stop it!” Jihoon demanded. He used his free hand to shove the other, taking the boy off balance. With the brief moment of control, he reversed their positions, sitting atop the other and grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “I only wanted to protect you!”

 

Guanlin reciprocated the gesture, taking hold of Jihoon’s shirt, “You wanted to control me- to control everyone.” He said with strained breath.

 

_ “Clonk!” _

 

Yanking Jihoon’s shirt, Guanlin brought their skulls crashing toward one another. Jihoon gasped from the shock. Blinking away the spinning colors from his eyes, he found himself quickly wrestled to the ground again.

 

“You’re mad. I- I should have realized-”

 

“I’m mad? You’re the one who has gone mad!” Jihoon insisted, catching a fist that no doubt had intended to hit him in the face. 

 

“Because I’m not living as you intend me to?!” Guanlin quickly pushed off of him, hopping onto his feet. Not to be denied the last word, Jihoon followed. He caught the boy’s departing form quickly, snatching him from behind. Looping one arm around the other’s throat, he pulled him back.

 

“Because you value the word of common thieves more than-” He began squeezing slightly. The former general knew his way around a fist fight. Just a bit of constriction adequately disoriented a foe without hurting them substantially. “-than someone who cares about you.”

 

Guanlin’s chest heaved for air. One hand clawed at Jihoon’s arm while he used the other to make light blows to Jihoon’s temple. The two tangled in a mess of limbs and struggled breath. Guanlin’s nimbleness surprised Jihoon. The boy managed to wriggle his way out of a number of holds, and his height made keeping him down all the harder. Jihoon’s strength being at an all-time low did nothing to help the situation. When Guanlin managed to wrest himself away from Jihoon’s grip, sent a few more punches in the other’s general direction. They hit his chest and stomach. They bobbed and weaved around one another, ducking beneath fists and throwing out kicks and grunts.

 

“You never-” Guanlin shoved Jihoon further back, sending him colliding with a barrel, “-cared about me. You only cared about yourself.”

 

When another fist rushed toward his face, Jihoon caught it; he held it in place with a blistering grip, “That isn’t true,” He said through gritted teeth. 

 

“Yes,” Guanlin insisted, seething, “It is.”

 

“It isn’t.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“It is not,” Jihoon pulled Guanlin’s caught fist forward, causing him to lose balance. The former general grasped at the boy’s shirt before he could regain his footing. Looking him in the eyes, he asked, “Why do you insist on denying my truth?” Guanlin struggled against the other’s grip. When he failed to wiggle away, he pursed his lips resignedly.

 

“Because all you ever did was shelter me,” Guanlin shook his head, “You did not care about me- not truly. You only ever cared about your image of the perfect little concubine.”

 

“That isn’t real- I- Who told you this?”

 

“Nobody- See! That’s it,” Guanlin gripped Jihoon’s wrist, willing the other to let him go, “You refuse to believe that I would ever dare disagree with you or- or think differently. So- so you never gave me the chance.”

 

“I didn’t want anyone to poison your thoughts-”

 

“You didn’t want anyone to question you,” Guanlin cut the other off. 

 

“Because I had your best interests in mind.”

 

“Because you’re a self-serving loon who- who-” Finally, after working on prying Jihoon’s fingers off of his shirt, Guanlin freed himself. With a huff, he finished laying out his thoughts. His true thoughts. “Who keeps everyone under his control because if he didn’t, they’d all run away!”

 

Jihoon’s face dropped. Something stung in his heart. An ill feeling of dread blossomed in his chest.

 

“Is that what you think?” 

 

“I-” Realization swooped across Guanlin’s features. His face softened, and his shoulders slackened. He blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback at the words he had spoken. Apparently, the words had come as a shock not only to Jihoon. Finally, with a softer tone, Guanlin finished his thought, “I think that’s how you act.” He couldn’t maintain eye contact with Jihoon anymore.

 

Jihoon wanted to lash out. He wanted to scold the boy, to hold him down and turn his face to a fleshy pulp or close his hands around that slender neck; but, he couldn’t. Being called controlling, manipulative, and unstable by foes had never held consequence over Jihoon. Yet, for the boy he’d adored to lay it out so plainly upset him inexplicably. The hurt it inflicted cast deep roots in his heart, they reached beyond the superficial anger he’d always leaned into reflexively.

 

“I… I’m sorry,” Guanlin let out a breath.

 

“You’re bleeding again,” The words left Jihoon’s mouth no sooner than he’d thought them. A small splotch of blood dribbled down the corner of Guanlin’s lip. “Shit,” Jihoon shied away, keeping his pupils trained on a barrel nearby. “Shit. I- I’m sorry.” Guilt poured down on the former general like a bubbled had just popped above him. What was he doing? Fighting with a boy who’d probably picked up a sword a dozen times in his life.

 

“Guanlin, I- I really am so, so sorry,” Jihoon apologized again. He felt in awe of himself. What had happened to him? Who was he? To put his hands on a person he cherished so much felt like a cardinal sin; like he’d tainted something once pure.

 

Guanlin chuckled. Jihoon’s eyes widened, and he began to suspect that he wasn’t the mad one present. Yet, the boy carried on. The sound was no mere fluke or loud exhalation. Guanlin genuinely appeared humored. He laughed, his shoulders shaking and his lips widening into his precious, toothy smile. His eyes twinkled as he looked at Jihoon.

 

“Shit- Have I knocked your head, too?” Jihoon’s eyes widened with panic. “I- I’m sorry, I- Why are you laughing?!”

 

Guanlin laughed harder, leaning on a nearby barrel to stay upright. The prisoner could only watch on, stunned. When the boy finally came down from his fit, he spoke.

 

“I’m- I’m laughing because I- I-” Guanlin labored to steady his shuddering breaths before continuing. When he’d finally manage to straighten his tone out, he spoke clearly, “I’m… Glad.”

 

“You- What?”

 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever treated me like a human being. Not- not like a child or some precious pet.” Guanlin grinned again, “It was actually quite fun.”

 

Jihoon reeled back slightly; his face scrunched with befuddlement, and his eyes bore into the other’s features, “Wha- Guanlin, I- I hurt you. I made you bleed. You have bruises everywhere.”

 

“I know, but… It’s alright,” Guanlin nodded insistently, “That’s what men do, isn’t it? You fight and disagree and even draw blood, but… Then you speak to one another and start to make amends.”

 

“But- I have training and- and- it’s not fair-”

 

“You are not my master, Jihoon. You’re not even a General. And, I belong to nobody. We are just… Two young men. On a ship. There is nothing unfair about it.” 

 

Jihoon didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to. Guanlin seemed satisfied. His plush lips upturned into a tiny grin, he turned around and began walking away.

 

The younger boy spoke over his shoulder, “Try not to start any more fights. Other members of the crew may not take it as graciously as I did.” 

 

Jihoon remained rooted in place. He merely watched the other walk away for a few moments. Guanlin had truly transformed. In such a short time, he’d grown into a confident, wise young man. A thought cropped up in Jihoon’s mind. He realized that perhaps Guanlin hadn’t changed much at all. Perhaps the boy had always been astute, but it was the General who had been blind.

 

“Wait!” Jihoon called after the other. Guanlin stopped, glancing behind with a quirked eyebrow. Nerves tossed around in the prisoner’s chest momentarily, but he quelled them with a deep breath. 

 

“Next time you want practice, come find me. Try sparring with a real soldier instead of some jackass pirate. You might actually learn something.”

 

The smile on Guanlin’s lips stretched from small grin into an ear to ear beam. It rivaled the brightness of the sunlight.

 

“I’ll think about it,” He replied. With that, he walked off. Jihoon watched the boy saunter away until his skinny form disappeared behind one of the masts. For some reason, the glimmer in the boy’s eyes made Jihoon’s heartbeat hasten.

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo eyed the map on the forecastle table carefully. He felt as if staring at it would allow reality to sink in. He still scarcely believed that Crescene was mere days away. It had been years since he’d seen his home. The gentle washing of waves came in muffled through the window along with the remnants of the sun’s light.

 

_ “Creaak!” _

 

The noisy forecastle door signaled the entrance of a familiar face. Seongwoo flashed his first mate a smile and greeted him.

 

“Good evening, Taeseob! What brings you here?” He asked.

 

Taeseob paced over to the desk, eyeing the map spread out across it. He smiled, tracing the outline of Crescene with his finger as he spoke.

 

“I come bearing some interesting news.”

 

“Interesting?” Seongwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Interesting as in bad or…”

 

The First Mate shrugged, “Perhaps you would know better than I the nature of this news.”

 

Ong’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head, “Well, what is it?”

 

“Apparently your little protege from the Castle ran into his, um… His Master today.”

 

“Guanlin?” Ong’s eyes widened.

 

“Yes- That one! He and, um, the General had a run-in of sorts. I only heard about it after the fact. Reportedly the prisoner had some squabble with him regarding sparring.”

 

“Sparring?” Seongwoo asked again.

 

Taeseob sighed, “I- I was not present. Here is what I know from Youngmin: Giwon and Guanlin had been sparring. The prisoner cut in all ornery like- making a fuss about something. Guanlin said - apparently - that he would ‘take care of the prisoner himself’.”

 

“Oh, God,” Seongwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. So much had been going on with Crescene so near; he’d hardly remembered to check in on the Kang prisoners themselves. For the most part, the men seemed to be doing fine (save for one). Sungwoon stuck by Jisung - who had been behaving well regardless. Jihoon, though mouthy as ever, had acted in line. After their initial briefing, Seongwoo had let the Lieutenants use their own judgment. He genuinely trusted the three, and if they deemed it acceptable for Jihoon to be roaming about, he believed them. At least, mostly. He believed that the man was capable of acting in line. Seongwoo could easily imagine the little man spitting fire and curses at other pirates. Still, Jihoon wasn’t stupid enough to resort to some sort of violence.

 

Taeseob continued, “The two disappeared. Guanlin returned later with a swollen lip and a few bruises.”

 

Or perhaps Jihoon was foolish enough to act out violently. Against Guanlin of all people? Rage rapidly boiled Seongwoo’s blood.

 

The Captain slammed a fist on the desk, barking, “Well where is the fucking prisoner?!” He went from calm to wanting blood splattered in mere seconds.

 

“Wh- Captain- Captain, settle,” The First Mate held his hands up, “The boy himself said it was fine.”

 

“Fine?” Ong chuckled wryly, “He said it was fine? No. No, no, no!” He shook his head, “No he- he must be being manipulated again. That man- he has a way with words, you know. He can- he can get under your skin and-”

 

“Captain- Guanlin handled it!”

 

“Handled it?! How is getting- getting brutalized by a reptile in human clothing and being so deluded you believe it is acceptable-”

 

“Guanlin kicked his ass.”

 

“-to be treated violently- Wait, what?” Seongwoo halted. He swore his ears had deceived him, “Guanlin did what?”

 

“Slapped him around pretty good,” Taeseob laughed, “Saw the aftermath myself. The man’s covered in bruises and his nose is,” The First Mate visibly winced.

 

“And-  And Guanlin? He’s okay?”

 

“A bit bruised, but...” Taeseob raised his eyebrows at Ong, “Seongwoo I know you care for him, but you cannot protect him forever, you know.”

  
“What? I- I know that. Of course I do. That doesn’t mean he needs to be injured on my own ship.”

 

“Ong, how many fights have you and I gotten into on this ship- when you were Yesung’s apprentice?”

 

Seongwoo looked up in thought. He wasn’t necessarily a fighter, but he did often manage to get himself in trouble. Perhaps, just perhaps, said trouble involved him saying too much and getting his ass kicked. After years of getting his ass kicked, he’d managed to learn how to return the favor. He still preferred words and wit over all.

 

“I mean- a few, but- but Guanlin isn't like us.”

 

“You’re right. He is much smarter than you.”

 

“Excuse you!” Ong scoffed dramatically.

 

“That’s better,” Taeseob said, referring to the grin teasing at Seongwoo’s lips. “You needn’t worry about that boy. He is smart and is growing stronger by the day. With Crescene just in our reach, we will have more important things to handle than petty squabbles. If he can manage to settle his scores personally, it lessens our burden.”

 

Seongwoo pouted, “I suppose you are not wrong in that assertion.” He crossed his arms.

 

“You could have just said that I’m right, but I’ll take it,” The First Mate chuckled.

 

“God, it’s really happening. I can’t believe,” Seongwoo sighed, “I really can’t believe…”

 

“Well, believe,” Taeseob nudged Seongwoo playfully. “It’ll probably be a proper mess for a while, but it’ll be over before we know it. Soon, every person in this Armada will have a place to come back to when they’re not at sea. We can give refugees proper homes instead of sleeping them in the cargo hold. Who knows? Maybe the favor you’ve curried with the people back on the continent will create trade connections in the future.”

 

“Right, well, we have to get there first,” Seongwoo replied. 

 

“Oh, please. When did I become the optimistic one of us two?” Taeseob chuckled.

 

_ “Knock. Knock.” _

 

The two glanced at the forecastle door with interest. 

 

“Come in,” Taeseob hollered, standing up straighter.

 

In entered a deckboy. Seongwoo glanced at Taeseob confusedly, but the First Mate seemed to know what the young man’s business was.

 

“Sir-” The deckboy said.

 

Taeseob eyed his Captain dubiously before cutting off the deckboy, “I told you I would fetch you when-”

 

“But sir, he’s still not eating.”

 

Taeseob tensed.

 

Seongwoo turned to slowly face his First Mate, acrimony poisoning his veins.

 

“That is noted. Now leave this place until you are summoned,” Taeseob commanded. 

 

“Yes,” Seongwoo said coldly. “Leave us.” The deckboy nodded affirmatively and scuttled out of the room.

 

“Captain, I can explai-”

 

“Who’s not eating, Taeseob?” Seongwoo asked though he knew the answer.

 

The First Mate sighed resignedly, “The prisoner, sir. He still is being… Uncooperative. You need not worry, he will not starve to death. We’ve other measures to take should he-”

 

_ “Baaang!” _

 

Seongwoo slammed his hands against the desk even more loudly than the last time. Taeseob’s lips snapped shut, and he trained his eyes on the ground.

 

“I trusted you with this,” The Captain said. All cheer and gaiety had been sucked out of the room. “What is his condition?”

 

The First Mate pursed his lips, “The prisoner is fine. To say he is not eating is exaggeration. He is eating. Just… Meager portio-”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Seongwoo said. “I’m checking on him myself.” Without hesitation, he began striding toward the prisoner’s holding.

 

“Captain- Captain wait!” The First Mate chased after his superior.

 

“This is not a matter up for debate,” Ong called behind him.

 

“Captain!” Taeseob dashed after Seongwoo. Despite his long legs, the first mate struggled to match his superior’s pace. “I said I’d take care of it-”

 

“Clearly you have  _ not  _ taken care of it,” Seongwoo only saw red as he strode toward Daniel’s holding.

 

“Captain- Why the haste?!” The first mate huffed, following at the other’s tail, “You understand that he is misleading you- us. This is what he wants-” Seongwoo halted abruptly, and Taeseob nearly crashed into him because of him. The Captain turned, brows furrowed, set into an expression of immense displeasure.

 

“Are you telling me that he- Da-  _ the prisoner _ \- has expressed a genuine desire to die due to deprivation?”

 

Taeseob frowns, his voice strained in an attempt to sound patient and not irritated, “He wants this,” He waved to his Captain, “He wants you in this state. Upset and confused.” The first mate lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in so only Ong could hear him. “He wants you to rush to his side- to come to his rescue.”

 

“That man is not dying on my watch,” Seongwoo replied resignedly, picking up his brisk walking pace once more.

 

“You are playing right into his will!” Taeseob called after him.

 

“Do not follow me any further - that’s an order,” Ong barked behind him. He didn’t care to look and even see if the other remained at his tail. 

 

Taeseob huffed, giving Seongwoo one last message prior to parting: “Captain- keep your heart guarded! Do not fall for his tricks!”

 

After descending another set of creaky steps, the sound of the first mate faded. Seongwoo felt relieved the other did not follow. He tired of being badgered by the man. Yes, he considered Taeseob a close friend and a sweet soul, but he could no longer tolerate others believing they knew how he ought to run things. 

 

* * *

 

_ “Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.” _

 

The sound filled the small room, echoing across the wooden walls relentlessly. Seongwoo’s heart ached like it’d been dropped in poison. The sting spurned his throat and chest like a toxic blossom of ill feeling. He could hear the shakiness of his own breath in his ears, along with his heart’s arrhythmic beating. It was as if the weight of anxiety had been suspended above him all that time, and whatever had held it at bay for so long started to crumble. Bit by bit, the dread inside him deepened.

 

_ “Clap. Clap. Clap.” _

 

There sat Daniel - or, at least, a man who looked very much like him. The subtle roundness to his cheeks had hollowed slightly, as did the broadness to his torso. Though nothing could narrow the width of his shoulders, the bones jutting out from them were infinitely more pronounced than they ever had been. With a glance, Seongwoo could easily make out every little divot and dip in his collarbone. Even his ribs seemed to strain against the skin containing them. Yet, his macerated state did not unsettle Seongwoo the most.

 

The man’s expression chilled Seongwoo’s blood. Seongwoo had prepared himself for many possibilities. He’d imagined the man sickly or tired. Daniel being conscious had surprised him enough. Ong had tried to prepare himself for sobbing or anger, threats even. Not for cool amusement. Had he gone mad?

 

_ “Clap. Clap. Clap.” _

  
Daniel slowly clapped for the Captain, his lips upturned into a ghost of a grin. His eyes were lit not with flames of fury but something frigid. The prisoner’s gaze felt so shockingly cold to Seongwoo it nearly burned him the same.

 

Seongwoo braced himself. He stood as straight as possible and fortified his visage of composure. In truth, the man in front of him inspired more terror than the Black Council or any foe ever could. The Captain dropped the basket he’d been holding onto the floor unceremoniously, and he kicked it toward the other.

 

Then, silence.

 

Daniel glanced at the basket briefly, but his eyes quickly returned to the Captain. He didn’t say anything, but his disconcerting aura of humor remained. Seongwoo knew damn well that the quiet would rapidly take a toll on his anxiety; so, he took it upon himself to speak first. Ultimately he’d been the one to enter first, and he knew that he’d taken on the duty for more than mere food delivery. Surely Daniel did as well.

 

“You must be rather hungry,” Seongwoo said, voice calm. His stomach roiled with consternation; still, he kept his eyes fixed on the other’s. 

 

“You must be rather proud,” Daniel replied, slightly hoarse. The scratch in the man’s voice sent a splinter of pain down Ong’s chest. He tried to ignore it.

 

“Eat,” Seongwoo commanded.

 

“And what if I say no?” Daniel asked, an eyebrow quirked.

 

“Then you never get an explanation as to why you are here and you never know who I worked with,” The Captain laid out his terms. All the prisoner needed to do was follow an order and he would get clarity.

 

Daniel’s little grin faded momentarily. His eyes fled the Captain’s discerning leer, instead looking down in contemplation. Seongwoo internally begged for the other man to take his offer. He prayed for it, even though God had been so cruel to him before. He thought that, perhaps, that could be the one time the Lord extended his mercy. 

 

Suddenly, Daniel’s hand shot toward the basket. He yanked the closest thing he could grab - a sea biscuit - and shoved it into his mouth. Taking a huge bite, he hardly chewed it twice before swallowing the huge hunk of biscuit. After the lump disappeared down his throat, he looked at the Captain expectantly.

 

Seongwoo wondered if governesses had such difficulty making children eat; holding tightly onto the sliver of patience he had, he told the prisoner: “All of it.” The Captain nodded toward the bottle, “And the water, too.”

 

Daniel looked galled. He scowled at Seongwoo, disdain dripping from his features. Despite his acute irritation, he followed the order regardless. The Captain felt slightly relieved. He by no means adored the prospect of watching over Daniel like a hawk; however, if that was what it took to assure the other’s well being, he thought it a reasonable compromise. The alternative was simply unacceptable - especially after the case he’d made to the Council about mercy. Daniel needed to live.

 

“Wh- N-not too fast!” Seongwoo blurted out as he watched the other dig into his food. In a matter of seconds, half of it had already been inhaled. “You’ll get sick-” Daniel ignored him. He shoved as much in his mouth as he could possibly fit: biscuit, dried fruit, cured meat; water helped wash it down his throat until hardly any food remained. Seongwoo merely bit his tongue. He felt grateful that the other had cooperated and did not want to strain it. 

 

They both trod a line thinner than a thread. On one side the two remained composed even if contemptuous. The basest of decorum managed to sustain itself - something Seongwoo had only hoped for minutes prior. That slender line separated the two from something Seongwoo could not predict. It strained against the pressure of pent-up tension and unspoken words. How would they manifest? That Seongwoo could not answer. Ultimately, the unknown was what scared him the most. He knew not how their ugly emotions would rear their head given the chance, only that their manifestation would no doubt be dangerous. 

 

Loud gulping noises sounded out from the prisoner as he rushed to swallow the last of the water he’d been given. Half of it ran down his chin and onto his chest, but he hardly seemed to notice or care. He gasped as the bottle left his lips with not a drop to spare. Clumsily, he wiped his face with his forearm before fixing his gaze onto Seongwoo once more.

 

Seongwoo tried not to frown. He’d run out of time. 

 

“My explanation?” Daniel demanded.

 

Ong’s brows furrowed, “Me first.” He had to know about what had bothered him earlier, “Why the applause?” He narrowed his eyes.

 

Daniel let out an airy chuckle. Once again, he smiled. The lopsided grin resembled the ones he had given Seongwoo not too long before. However, from it seeped unparalleled resentment.

 

“I thought you deserved it,” He said, chuckling. “Unfortunate about this pirate business. You truly missed your calling to theater.”

 

Seongwoo’s heart began a descent toward the ground. He clenched his fists, grasping at his thoughts for a response.

 

“I see,” Seongwoo replied flatly. He tried not to sound bothered even though it burned him. He wished he had the aptitude to such elaborate fakery. Though he fancied himself adept at putting on masks, the emotions he had felt were no part of his deception. That fact had tormented him all throughout his time at Castle Jeon, and it tormented him yet again in the tiny brig cell of the Vengeance. “Any other childish remarks you wish to make?”

 

Part of him wanted to drop the charade right then and there. Seongwoo envisioned it, dropping to his knees and spilling everything; pouring out all the words and tears he had so effortfully confined in the trenches of his heart. He wanted to apologize and tell his side. Even if it did nothing to change Daniel’s feelings toward him, at the very least he could feel relief for himself. Alas, he knew that, if Daniel accepted his truth, it would only serve to wound the man further. Daniel had gone through enough in Seongwoo’s opinion. The man had been betrayed and his life uprooted in ways that would break many a man. How would an impossible love help him cope with that?

 

No, Seongwoo told himself over and over again. He had resigned himself: it was best for Daniel to hate him. Occasionally, a passing fantasy popped into the Captain’s head. He imagined a day in the future where they could rekindle what they had lost on different, more level ground. However, Seongwoo felt doubtful that such a day would ever come. He imagined Daniel would remember him as the man who deceived him and ruined his life. Seongwoo held no grudge toward him for it; for it was the truth.

 

“Childish?” Daniel replied, vexation sharp in his tone. Any feigning of amusement ceased. “You think I am acting childish?”

 

“That is exactly how I see your behavior,” Seongwoo answered, voice clipped. His nerves all raced toward the edge of his composure, all too ready to spill over at an instant’s notice. 

 

Daniel scoffed, “And, how exactly am I to behave after being captured, taken prisoner aboard a pirate ship, and-” He shook the chain keeping him bound to the wall. The metal links clattered thunderously against one another, and the found temporarily filled the room, “-tied me to a damn wall?” 

 

Boiling fury flared inside Ong’s gut; he could not bear looking the other in the eye, lest he lost control. Pupils flitting to the side of the room, he answered through gritted teeth.

 

“All this time and you still so severely lack perspective,” He mumbled to himself, laughing wryly. “Astounding.” The little dreams of running off with Daniel quickly began to dissipate, burned away by the swell of heat in his belly.

 

“I hardly care what opinion a thief has of me,” Daniel huffed. “Tell me your piece and go.”

 

Ong’s eyes went wide, and despite his better judgment, he glared at Daniel, “I am the only one allowed to make demands here.” He took a step toward the prisoner to emphasize the imposition of his presence.

 

“My apologies,  _ Captain _ ,” Daniel said, sounding immensely unapologetic. Seongwoo ignored the tone and moved on.

 

“While I am under no obligation to tell you shit, I will because I am a man of my word,” Seongwoo said haughtily. He opted to be the bigger man. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew the same document he’d presented the other two: the deed to Crescene. “If you must know,” Seongwoo said, unfurling the paper, “Your extraction was a paid arrangement.”

 

Daniel frowned, squinting at the document, “Is that… A deed?” He glowered at the Captain, “You did all of this for a hunk of rock on the sea?”

 

“You can call it whatever the hell you want,” Seongwoo replied through gritted teeth, “But for my people, this is a home.”

 

“Oh, how  _ noble  _ of you, then. Deceive the bastard King and steal his land out from under his nose, is that about right? Aren’t you the hero,” Daniel’s tone dripped bitterness. His eyes were sharper than daggers, and they sunk into Seongwoo’s skin excruciatingly. It struck Seongwoo as astounding. Daniel had not once looked down on him when he’d been in chains; but, now that Seongwoo stood above him, a free man in power, he’d never seen the man more haughty.

 

“My people actually coined the term ‘shepherd’ - leading them to the promised land and all that,” Seongwoo chuckled. Anything to usurp the other. Like hell was he going to let Daniel, chained up and resentful, have the last word.

 

Daniel let out a hollow laugh, “I missed the Bible story about the shepherd  _ fucking  _ the pharaoh to get what he wanted, but I am admittedly not the most pious of men.”

 

Seongwoo paused. Memories swam into his head all of a sudden. He had impressed their night together so greatly upon his mind: the way their fingers tangled, Daniel’s gasps, how desperately their lips met one another, the adoration, the tenderness.

 

“Is that all?” Daniel snapped Seongwoo out of his reminiscence. 

 

“Why? Have you got something important to do after this?” Ong snarked back. 

 

“I had all sorts of crucial duties when I held the throne. Of course, that was before being abducted by pirates who apparently made a ramshackle deal with- with…” The prisoner’s brow furrowed. “Who did this to me?”

 

“Hm…” Seongwoo dramatically stroked his chin and looked up in thought. “Who did this to you… That’s an awfully good question, Daniel.”

 

“I am serious. Tell me,” The prisoner demanded. He stood up slowly, puffing his chest out slightly in an attempt to look imposing. Shockingly enough, even with a metal collar and chain, starved and tired, the man accomplished a semblance of intimidation.

 

“Don’t they teach you to say ‘please’ in Kang court?” Seongwoo asked facetiously. He felt almost too entertained, dangling the other around. He wasn’t sure why but happily welcomed the respite from grief.

 

“How dare you taunt me. I held up my end of your little bargain. Now you do the same for yours!” The former King barked.

 

Seongwoo scrunched his nose, “That’s the thing about making deals with pirates. We’re not exactly the honorable type.” He shrugged. Daniel took a step forward, and by reflex, Ong took one back. The prisoner studied the other, and his voice deepened with anger when he spoke again.

 

“Tell me,” He demanded vexedly.

 

“Why don’t you tell me?” Seongwoo responded flippantly. “After all, who better than you to identify your worst enemies?”

 

Daniel looked down in thought momentarily before answering, “Was it- was it the Kingdom up north? Or- Or someone from the far west?”

 

“Oh, no, no, no. You’re thinking too hard, Daniel. Dethroning a freshly crowned King is hardly worth the price or effort for an enemy nation. Think smaller, more… Closely.”

 

“Closely,” The other murmured. He looked down in thought again, crossing his arms. 

 

“Oh, God. Please try not to hurt your head too much. Think about it!” It frustrated Seongwoo that the poor man could not see the obvious. He felt tempted to blurt it out, but keeping Daniel captive with his riddles proved a favorable alternative to being ousted by insults. “Who would stand to gain the most from your sudden departure?”

 

Daniel remained quiet. He opened his mouth for a second but snapped it closed immediately. A look of disbelief crossed his features, and he shook his head. Apparently, he refused to answer. Seongwoo felt his patience dwindling and opted to fill in some of the blanks for him.

 

“Spare me your sentiments,” Seongwoo scoffed. “Come on. Think! Let us consider our options.” He paced across the cell as he rattled off suspects. “There is the most obvious choice: your cousin, Prince Daehwi. Titles less consequential than ‘King’ have turned blood relatives on one another before. But… Well, it’s almost too easy, isn’t it? After all, you have quite the sizable court. Many Dukes and Barons despised you and the way you ran things. For some, the grudge was even personal.”

 

Daniel’s kept his lips stubbornly shut. He clenched his fists and his posture tensed.

 

Ong continued, “Then there is the enigmatic Bae family. After years of isolation, they finally chose to come out of their castle to create an alliance. Yet… The timing is absolutely uncanny, isn’t it? And with a Queen as strong as Irene present after your demise, she could easily make an impression on your court and your soon to be crowned cousin. Choices, choices… So many choices… Who do you think it is?”

 

“Fuck you,” The former King glowered at him.

 

“Or perhaps it’s none of them at all,” Seongwoo said, ignoring the curse. He stepped closer to the other, matching the other’s gaze with a ferocity of his own. He’d tired of the other’s lack of reaction. Whether out of a desire to be despised or out of some sick want for attention, he pushed the sorest nerve he knew Daniel had:

 

“Perhaps your little bitch cousin rose from the dead so she could take revenge on you after you killed he-”

 

_ “Thud!!” _

 

Seongwoo’s body hit the wall with a loud, hollow sound. The air had ejected itself from his lungs upon contact, and he gagged as he tried to refill them. Aching spread across his back and skull. Daniel approached the Captain; behind his dark eyes burned intense rage.

 

“You always ran your mouth too much,” Daniel growled. Before Seongwoo could think to respond, the prisoner reached a hand out toward his throat and slammed him back against the wall. “I used to mistake that quality for bravery.”

 

“Let go of me, p-prisoner,” Seongwoo said, voice airy. He had yet to fully recover from the knockback, and Daniel’s pressure on his throat did nothing to help. Seongwoo felt immensely foolish for ever allowing the man to have unbound hands and such a long chain. “The consequences for this will be dire if you do not-” He gasped, “-let go now.”

 

“Even now, you still insist on speaking,” Daniel snarled back. Seongwoo’s heart began racing. He’d never seen the man so angry before. Sure, he’d been impish. The initial blow hadn’t been out of line, but for the first time in a long time: Seongwoo began to feel afraid. It shocked him that the man could be so strong when he’d had so little sustenance. Perhaps the force holding Seongwoo in place had less to do with Daniel’s strength and more to do with something else. Ong had no time or desire to consider such ideas, though. 

 

“Let me go,” The Captain demanded. He restrained the terror scraping at his chest to the best of his ability. “ _ Now _ .”

 

Instead of obliging, Daniel brought a second hand to Seongwoo’s throat and started closing them, “Tell me who you worked with. Who paid you to do this?”

 

“I- I will I-” Seongwoo took a deep breath, “I promise if you just- let me-”

 

“You talk and I release your neck,” Daniel squeezed hard to emphasize his point.

 

“I-” Ong’s hands rose to pry at Daniel’s, ”- do not-” He drew another sharp breath, “-take orders from prisoners.” Seongwoo had spent far too long being beneath others; after fighting to regain his place as Captain, he’d be damned if a prisoner thought he could take charge. Regardless, he felt assured that Daniel would never truly kill him.

 

“Pity then,” Daniel said. “Perhaps I’ll be put to death for this, but unlike you, I am a man of my word,” His grip started crushing Seongwoo’s throat.

 

Seongwoo realized the fear that he’d felt hadn’t been unfounded. It hadn’t been some traumatic ghost of his early times in the castle. It was real. Daniel meant his words. The Captain began writhing and pawing at Daniel’s hands to no avail.

 

The room started spinning. Seongwoo gasped for air, but he could not find it. The hands squeezing his throat were unbelievably strong for those of a deprived man. Daniel seethed as he struggled to keep the Captain down.

 

“A-a-ah,” Ong choked, his chest heaving, “D-Daniel- Daniel, please,” He begged. It was all he could do. With no air reaching his lungs, his body weakened immensely. Even his fingers felt numb, and his grasping at the other’s hands did nothing. Tears welled up in his eyes at the futility of it all. How, he wondered, did he manage to land himself in such situations? How is it that - even when their roles were turned upside down - Daniel always gained the advantage? “Daniel, please,” Seongwoo preyed upon whatever last remaining sliver of affection the man may have had. He didn’t know if it still remained, but with the edges of his vision darkening, it was his only hope. “P-ple...a...se…” Seongwoo gasped.

 

Daniel showed no sign of mercy. He leaned forward, watching carefully with an impossibly dark gaze. Ong’s eyes fell upon the prisoner’s lips. They were so close. Though dots obscured his vision and buzzing swarmed his ears, he focused intensely on them. With what meager strength and wit he could, Seongwoo leaned his face as far forward as he possibly could. Jerking his head forward, he caught Daniel’s lips with his own.

 

For a second, everything stopped.

 

The hands around his neck loosened, and the lips beneath his pushed back needily. Seongwoo could hear the other’s shaky breath, a hiss of relief. Daniel’s hands dropped; they kept Seongwoo firmly in place, grabbing his shirt and pinning him against the wall. The Captain could hardly protest. His only objective was to breathe properly at that moment. Finally, their lips parted.

 

Seongwoo’s head swam as air flooded back into his lungs. He hacked and coughed. Had it not been for Daniel’s firm grip on his shirt, he surely would have crumbled to the ground. Breath had scarcely returned to the Captain’s lungs before Daniel attacked them again. A rush surged through Seongwoo’s veins. He inhaled sharply, drinking in the sensation. “Kissing” hardly dignified the contact properly. What they were doing was different.

 

The movements were the same; lips on lips, tongue against tongue, teeth gnashing and sounds being squeezed out from their throats. Yet, behind those actions lurked a much more obscure intention. Seongwoo matched Daniel’s ferocity to the best of his ability. He yelped as teeth sunk into his lip, drawing blood; then, he did the same, biting into whatever his teeth could find first. A small groan left the other’s lips, and the taste of iron filled Seongwoo’s mouth.

 

Daniel pushed forward, pressing their bodies flush together. He felt hot; the surface of his skin seared Seongwoo on contact. His knees nearly buckled under the other’s weight. Pressure bubbled up in his gut. The prisoner’s hands raked across skin roughly. He grabbed and pulled without thought, leaving aches and bruises as he went. Wantonly, his hips rocked into Seongwoo’s. Without a second thought, Seongwoo reciprocated.

 

Conscious thought and contemplation had been completely disqualified between them. It had burned up, shriveled by the sweltering heat between them. That thin line that maintained their relative sanity had disappeared, and the result unfolded before Ong at a staggering pace.

 

“A-Aah!” Ong gasped, his chest heaving. Daniel’s lips had moved, and the prisoner bit down at the tender flesh beneath Seongwoo’s ear. Something about the pain gratified Seongwoo. It hurt, yet, at the same time, he leaned into it - even craved it. He tilted his head, allowing Daniel ample access to his neck. It’d been so long since the other had marked it. Perhaps, Seongwoo thought, that was what he truly desired. To be marked again by the man he loved. The man who despised him.

 

That line of contemplation rapidly slipped away. Too many sensations scraped at his insides for such explicit thought to be had. Daniel’s hands moved avariciously around his back. He took no tenderness in the way that he groped and spread the Captain’s ass, even avariciously spreading it. His long fingers dipped dangerously close to his entrance, making heat storm through Seongwoo’s body.

 

The thin breeches Daniel had been put in did nothing to conceal the hard length beneath. They both were wound up near the point of snapping completely.

 

Tensity ripped through the Captain. Biting need spurred Seongwoo forward, demanding the flesh of the man pressed against him. Unable to stave it off any longer, Seongwoo fumbled with his belt clumsily. He undid the buckle, letting it drop to the ground with a loud, metallic noise. Daniel didn’t ask questions, using his hands to proceed instead.

  
Fingers dipped beneath fabric, grazing bare skin. Daniel’s touch set Ong’s blood alight. Seongwoo did the same, running his hands shamelessly down the other’s bare torso. A low growling noise sounded out from Daniel’s throat, and he ground his hard-on into Seongwoo’s. The friction only further fueled Seongwoo’s need. Fingers moved frenziedly between the two of them. Neither practiced patience or contemplation. Lips once again carnally clashing, they both raced toward what they wanted. 

  
Seongwoo pulled at the lace keeping Daniel’s breeches secure. With fabric dropping to the wayside, he gripped the other’s thick cock, stroking it hastily. It felt weighty and hot in his palm, and wet ran down the shaft. Imagining it inside of him made Ong shiver. Daniel’s mind had gone to a similar place. No longer did he need to tease. With one hand, he roughly spread Seongwoo open, and without hesitation, he slipped a long, slender finger inside.

 

The sensation surprised Seongwoo slightly, but it was far from unwelcome. He bore the pain well, even rocking into it. A lascivious, primal part of him wanted nothing more than to offer himself up to the other. Libido had taken control, and Seongwoo scarcely waited for Daniel’s second, prying finger before groaning impatiently. His toes curled as Daniel scissored in three fingers quickly. It stung, but he wanted it, depended on it almost. 

 

Unable to hold back any longer, Ong rushedly yanked his breeches and braies down. The two tangled limbs in their haste. Suddenly, a force lifted Seongwoo off the ground. Daniel gripped the Captain’s ass tightly and hoisted him up, holding him against the wall. Seongwoo wondered if he was going mad, if his brain had lost so much breath that he felt lightheaded. He wasn’t sure whether to credit prepossessed strength or pure carnal drive for the brute force the deprived prisoner managed to summon. Regardless, shock and awe had to wait.

 

The head of Daniel’s thick cock pressed at his entrance teasingly. Even the mere insinuation of what was to come caused a shiver to run down Ong’s spine. He knew it would hurt, yet he hungered for the sensation. It had been immeasurably long since he’d been with someone in such a way, and Daniel’s body - even with it’s newly hardened edges - propelled him to madness.

 

“A-ah!” Seongwoo gasped. He inhaled sharply through his teeth as the other pushed in.

 

For the first time since they’d clashed, Daniel slowed down. Seongwoo could feel the other’s chest bob up and down as he caught his breath; he felt the other’s legs shaking beneath him from the strain. The prisoner kept his head firmly tucked into the nook of Seongwoo’s shoulder. Occasionally, his lips idly pressed against abused skin.

 

Gradually, Daniel pushed in further and further. With each push, Seongwoo tensed. He gritted his teeth and pressed his head back into the wood behind. When the other had finally bottomed out, Seongwoo squirmed. He shivered around the fullness; it nearly suffocated him. He’d never felt so full. The man could hardly stomach it. A sheen of sweat settled on his skin as he writhed to the best of his ability in hopes of acclimating. 

 

Whatever tenderness or consideration Daniel had possessed, it quickly dissipated. The other soon began moving at a slow but steady pace. The thrust up into the Captain, his labored breaths tickling the man’s neck and chest. With his length, he easily hit deep inside the other, making flurries of fire flare across his insides.

 

“A-ah-” Seongwoo gasped. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t unbearable. Far from it. With each thrust, he teetered between pain and pleasure. He felt incredibly profane even remembering it, but his situation did not differ terribly from fantasies he’d had prior. 

  
Daniel grunted as he pushed into Seongwoo, and his pace grew faster. Bit by bit, pain dulled, transitioning fully into pleasure. Daniel was by no means gentle, and he roughly brushed Seongwoo’s sensitivity with every movement. Remaining upright, pinned against a wall proved more and more difficult with time. Seongwoo’s legs began turning to mush and his arms’ clinging to the flat wood proved futile. Unable to think of an alternative, he wrapped an arm around Daniel and latched onto the other.

 

“Ah- f-fuh-” Seongwoo’s cock twitched as Daniel brushed his sweet spot once more. Despite the brutality, wetness trailed down from the tip. “F-fuck- Daniel,” Seongwoo bit his tongue immediately. His eyes widened and immense shame washed over him. 

 

“Seongwoo,” The sound came out as a breathy whisper. Seongwoo barely heard it, and for a moment he thought he’d completely lost his sanity. “F-ffh- Seongwoo,” The murmur sounded out again. 

 

That made the Captain lose it. Whatever shame or reservation he’d had left - even the slight bits that had managed to survive to that point - perished. Seongwoo had to hear him say it again. To the best of his ability, he began chasing his pleasure.

 

Seongwoo threw his head back. His lips fell open and out of them flooded moans. He felt as if he did not even own his actions. He merely sat aside, watching himself. Even the pain of Daniel’s thick cock stretching himself out felt dull, barely there. He wasn’t sure what gave him more pleasure, the physical sensation, or the knowledge that - in some sick capacity - he and Daniel were together.

 

Daniel’s hands held Ong’s hip with a blistering grip. He thrust into the other without consideration for tenderness. Seongwoo could no longer hold himself back. He started stroking his cock and tried to angle his hips deliberately. 

 

“Ah-hh-” Seongwoo groaned as he found the perfect angle. Just as Daniel had thrown out all care, so did Seongwoo. He fucked himself on the other’s cock, thoughtlessly chasing his pleasure. Daniel’s large hands gripped and grasped at bare skin callously. Ong could feel the impending bruises, but the sensation only fueled the raging fire in his gut further. Every little sting and pain only indulged his twisted pleasure more.

 

The Captain’s cock twitched in his hand, but he held his end at bay with all his might. He hungered for more, just then realizing how truly starved he’d been of the other’s touch. Mutual hatred differed little from love by his obscured rationalization. The strong emotions were ever present. How strongly did mutually assured destruction differ from mutually enjoyed pleasure? The sensations of loathing and adoration registered the same to the body: sweaty palms, a faster heartbeat, and general anxiety.

 

The means by which they employed their mutually assured destruction mattered little. What was most crucial was arriving at that point. The boiling point. That point of no return. The point that Seongwoo both zealously chased and stubbornly held off.

 

“God- Daniel- a-ah,” His whines echoed loudly in the tiny wooden box of the cell.

 

“Seongwoo,” Daniel hissed loudly enough for the sound to bounce off the walls.

 

“Ahh-h! Daniel- I-” Seongwoo’s fleeting words died a quick death, stopped up in his throat as mounted pressure boiled over. His body tensed and trembled as his cock twitched, spitting out ropes of liquid between the two of them. White flashed in his vision, and his chest heaved as he choked on his own breath. 

 

Things went hazy as Daniel continued to fuck into him until he spent himself. Seongwoo could vaguely feel the other’s length twitch inside of him, filling him with warmth. The man seemed to mutter something into Seongwoo’s neck, but the Captain could not discern the syllables. He’d already begun crashing from his high and was too dazed to make it out.

 

After what felt like forever, Daniel backed off. He let go of Seongwoo and stepped back. He looked tired and stumbled into the opposite wall before plopping onto the floor. The sound of the two catching their breath replaced their grunts and moans. They remained locked in place by their own exhaustion for a while. 

 

Seongwoo’s limbs felt heavy when he finally attempted moving them. Soreness radiated through his body from his various afflictions. Bites and bruises covered his torso, and the blood stained his lips with a lasting taste of metal. 

 

Slowly, a foul feeling began rising up in Ong’s throat. 

 

“You can go now,” Daniel broke the silence. He looked liable to pass out at any moment; his eyelids fought to stay open.

 

Seongwoo’s brows furrowed as he looked at the other.

 

“I ate and you got in a quick fuck,” Daniel asked, bitterness beginning to poke through his steady tone. “You got what you came for, right?”

 

Ong could not think of how to respond. His heart dropped. He’d always felt confident in being able to read Daniel. Yet, in that moment, he had no idea where the other’s thoughts truly lied. Did he really believe his words? Then again, Seongwoo realized: it did not matter; he had sworn to stay away from the other, to be cold, to allow Daniel to cut him off and move on. Because of that, there was no room for affection. In the path Ong had chosen, there was to be no cuddling up to one another, no holding hands, no whispering of assurances or tender kisses.

 

Without a word, Seongwoo adjusted himself, refastening his pants around his waist and grabbing his belt. All the while, Daniel’s gaze rested on him, heavy. The Captain opened his mouth with the intention of making parting words, but his mind failed him. 

 

What could he possibly say? Ought he answer “yes, I did get what I wanted, I used you” - and assure the other’s embittered point of view? It seemed too late to take it all back and reveal his genuine thoughts. Unable to think of anything, Seongwoo opted for the most favorable alternative: nothing. Just as he reached for the door’s handle, Daniel spoke again.

 

“Why?” The prisoner asked, his voice raspy.

 

Unable to stop himself, Seongwoo turned around to look at the man. He looked even more worn than before. Clearly, the flurry of activity had spent what little energy he had. Stubbornly, Daniel held onto what strength he did have left. His chest still heaved to catch his breath, and his eyes visibly fought to stay open.

 

“Why what?” Seongwoo responded, his voice a bit softer. “I told you already: I was compensated. My work was exchanged for Crescene, a hom-”

 

“I meant,” Daniel paused to take a breath, “I meant why did you pretend to love me?” His voice quivered ever so slightly.

 

Seongwoo’s face dropped. He swallowed hard, hoping it would somehow manage to counteract the rush of heat flooding to his eyes. The prisoner looked to be in similar condition. Wetness twinkled in his lidded eyes, and his face twitched, threatening to unleash cries, no doubt.

 

“The- whole deception- the- the infiltration and betrayal I grasp,” Daniel said, “But- but why… Why did you-?” He took another shaky breath. With renewed vigor, he looked Seongwoo fiercely in the eye and stated: “You broke my heart, and I hate you for it. I will never stop loathing you until the day I die, do you understand? And- and if I should ever get off that hellish rock you intend to inhabit, you will pay the most dire of consequences.”

 

Ah, Seongwoo thought to himself, so that was where he stood. Ong had no intention of inviting fire and brimstone into the new home of his people, but he had little qualm with personal threats. To deny that it wrenched his heart from his chest would be ungracious. Still, it came as a relief that things were going as intended. Daniel despised him. That was good. That was what Seongwoo wanted.

 

Things were better that way. 

 

“Threatening me?” Ong leaned into the other’s hatred, forcing a chuckle. “There was always something in that castle I told the truth about, you know.” He tried to sound bemused, hoping his tone did not sound as hollow as he felt. His heart had just been gouged out, and the only thing that kept it - along with the tears Seongwoo so badly wanted to let out - was the numbness coming over him.

 

“You  _ are  _ adorable,” Seongwoo said. With that, he left. Before he could get himself in another compromising position, he rushed out the door, slamming it behind him.

 

Everything felt so quiet the second the door shut. It was as if Daniel’s place of holding had some sort of undetectable drone. Upon leaving the place, it halted. However, the disappearance of the nerve-wracking buzz hardly lent any comfort to the Captain. His head spun. Thoughts whipped across his mind with such haste and loudness that it dizzied him. Unable to fathom more than a few steps forward, Seongwoo stumbled into the nearby wall.

 

The Captain’s knees gave, and a loud groan sounded out from the infirm wood beneath. Drawing air yielded little for the man. His breaths never quite satisfied the wanting of his lungs, leaving him to feel more dizzy. Whispers in his mind began materializing from the din of onsetting panic. They spoke furiously and were many in number; yet, they all asked one singular question:

 

What have you done?

 

Seongwoo wondered the same thing. What had he done? What had just happened? He could make neither heads nor tails of it. The only conclusive thing to come from the entire encounter was that Daniel despised him.

 

What have you done?

 

What have you done?

 

What have you done?

 

What have you done?

 

They asked without end. Their whispers grew louder until they filled his ears like a hum. The edges of Seongwoo’s vision swam slightly, and he could not entirely discern his own sight’s warping from the shifting of the ship. 

 

What have you done?

  
What have you done?

 

What have you done?   
  


A question that Seongwoo had no answer for. Or, perhaps, the issue lied in the fact that he had a multitude of answers. What, precisely, had he done? The more apt question was: what hadn’t he done?

 

He had posed as a commoner in some remote village with the intention of being taken into the Kang palace. In his time there, he had deceived everyone into believing him to be nothing more than a concubine. He’d fallen in love with someone he had no right to, and he had single-handedly ruined that man’s life. Not only had he deprived Daniel of his life as a King, but he’d taken away the one nonmaterial thing that could survive such adversity: love. He had gone into his mission knowing the risks and the consequences, and he greedily did as he pleased regardless.

 

What have you done?

 

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks without him even realizing it. Though his feet were unsure, Seongwoo managed to stand upright once more. He needed to return to his quarters with immediacy. Illness began stirring in his stomach, and colors dotted his vision. Their voices raised into a stentorian bedlam. They yelled:

 

What have you done? 

 

What have you done?

 

What have you done?

 

What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you done? What have you-

 

_ “Smaaaack!” _

 

The voices halted. Seongwoo gasped. Needles of pain shot his cheek sharply. The shock righted his senses abruptly. Blinking, his vision began swimming back into place. As he brought a hand to his stinging cheek, his First Mate came to view.

  
Taeseob looked at Seongwoo with a stern gaze, brows furrowed in gall.

 

“What the hell was that?” The Captain asked, still suffering slightly from whiplash.

 

“Captain,” Taeseob said, enraged. The tone immediately put Seongwoo on alert. While often firm and blunt, Taeseob never sounded angry. Even more confusion came when Ong realized that besides Taeseob loomed another form. A short, rather stocky man who wore specs and had perfectly parted hair.

 

“Sungwoon?” Ong asked, squinting to assure he hadn’t gone mad or knocked his head. He turned to Taeseob again, “What’s he done?”

 

“Nothing yet,” Taeseob said through gritted teeth, “But he’s about to.”

 

Seongwoo’s eyes widened with confusion, “Wh-”

 

Taeseob leaned in closer, “You are  _ not  _ quiet, Captain.”

 

“I- I’m not- What?!”

 

Groaning, the First Mate wrung a hand down his face before elaborating, “Half of the ship heard you whining like a bitch in heat.”

 

“Oh,” Shame flooded Seongwoo. The cheek that hadn’t seen the back of Taeseob’s hand started to match the other one. “Well… How much did they hear?”

 

“Need I remind you how thin these walls can be? Especially on the lower decks? Now, unless you’ve got a dozen stab wounds to accompany those bite marks of yours, I believe the crew will be wanting an explanation.”

 

“Well,  _ clearly  _ he got stabbed with something,” Sungwoon muttered under his breath. 

 

“Be quiet, you!” Taeseob briefly paused his interrogation of Seongwoo to shoot Sungwoon a dirty look. The older man seemed more humored than anything and shrugged.

 

“W-well, why is he here?” Seongwoo asked, nodding toward the Kang passenger. Though he’d managed to stave off a meltdown, his mind still hardly made sense of what he’d done with Daniel. As he had predicted, the incarnation of their tension had been ugly. None of his mental preparation sufficed to ready him for just how it had manifested.

 

“He,” Taeseob yanked Sungwoon closer, “Is your savior.”

 

“My what?” Ong asked in absolute befuddlement. 

 

“This is your savior,” The First Mate said again bluntly. “If you come stumbling up those steps, walking by crew quarters, they will know for certain what you’d done. However, if we come dragging him up the steps, scolding him for sneaking into the cell and fucking the prisoner, he will be attributed with the deed. Sungwoon is close to Seongwoo, after all. People would easily write it off as a confusion.”

 

“What? But-” Ong looked at Sungwoon, “No, I can’t- I mean, he can’t-”

 

“It’s alright,” Sungwoon put up his hands in resigned accommodation. “All the… Relevant parties understand the situation. I already agreed to it.”

 

“I- You… You what?” Seongwoo’s brain slowed down slightly. “Why would you agree to such vulgarity? The crew will surely harass you for this.”

 

Sungwoon chuckled, “Pirate banter hardly affects me. Not after years of being scandalized by noble folk. I- I suppose you witnessed that firsthand. You needn’t worried about me. A few snide comments will do me no harm. You, however, stand to lose the faith of your crew.”

 

“Wh- I’m the Captain, I can fuck who I want,” Seongwoo said with a frown. “Captains do as they please with prisoners all the time.”

 

Taeseob gave Seongwoo a judgmental look, “Captain, do not feign foolishness. It isn’t becoming. We both know what is at stake if anyone even suspects that man has your favor. He’s no mere prisoner.”

 

Seongwoo knew Taeseob was right. It would have been different if Daniel had been a thief or soldier, but he wasn’t. The man was a King and his owner for months. Being caught with him could cause all kind of rumors to spread among the crew. That wasn’t even mentioning that such information reaching the Council spelled disaster for him. 

 

“Sungwoon, are you sure about this?” The Captain asked, conceding defeat. Part of him felt guilty. Even as the commanding officer of the ship they sailed, Sungwoon still had to swoop in to rescue him. Sungwoon and Taeseob. While Ong held the power and control, he still felt as helpless as ever, and it was all because of one man. Chains and collars weren’t necessary when one held the lead to the heart.

 

Sungwoon nodded; he lifted his arms and said facetiously, “Take me away. I’ve been a naughty boy.”

 

“Please stop talking now,” Taeseob requested with wide-eyed horror. The interaction gave Ong a very much needed laugh. 

 

The Captain took one arm, the First Mate the other. Together, they made a show of yanking Sungwoon up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, they could immediately feel the eyes of the crew who had happened to leave the doors to their quarters open.

 

“We’ll let you off with a warning,” Taeseob said loudly to Sungwoon.

 

Ong threw himself into the charade to distract himself, “You best think twice about sneaking into someone’s cell like that.” He added, nearly yelling. The two threw vaguely threatening remarks toward Sungwoon for the following few minutes. They made sure all within earshot and even those in the decks above could hear them chastizing him. Some people glanced on subtly while others stared, even popping their heads out to watch.

 

They maintained their theatrics until finally reaching the main deck. Confident that nobody else had heard, they drop their act (and Sungwoon). Everything felt infinitely quieter beneath the night sky. Stars covered the expanse of deep navy like a luminous blanket. Working crew was few and far between, allowing the three men who’d just ascended the steps to relax significantly.

 

“May I go now?” Sungwoon asked, rubbing the sore parts of his arms where the other two had grabbed him.

 

“Yes, but try to look repentant and perhaps fearful,” Taeseob said.

 

“Right,” Sungwoon chuckled before heading into the lower decks via the opposite side of the ship. He quickly strode toward the far hatch before disappearing into the lower decks again. \

 

That left the Captain alone with his First Mate. Seongwoo braced himself for harsh words. Surely the man would have something to say; after all, he’d been right. Instead, Taeseob merely took a deep breath. After slowly exhaling, he said something. However, his tone communicated no harshness. He didn’t sound the least bit cross. 

 

“Seongwoo, are you alright?” He began walking toward the larboard railing. 

 

Ong’s feet unconsciously followed as he responded, “Of course I am.” He bluffed. “Was a bit wound up, but that’s all sorted out now, isn’t it?”

 

Taeseob frowned, “Did you really go in there intending to have a romp?”

 

Seongwoo tried to force out a chuckle, but it caught in his throat. Instead, the sound warped. It came out as a choked half sob. The Captain’s hand shot to cover his face. He felt even more ashamed. Luckily, the two had reached the railing, and Seongwoo reached his free hand to grasp it for support. Emphatically, he shook his head in denial. 

 

“No,” Seongwoo whispered. The thickness attributed to it betrayed just how distraught he truly was. He’d spent so long agonizing over his feelings for Daniel, he felt partially terrified and partially gratified in venting it. “No I- I did not.”

 

Taeseob did a quick scan of the area. Upon confirming that nobody was near, he took a spot close next to Seongwoo against the railing. 

 

“May I ask what happened, then? If- if you do not wish to speak of it that’s alright.”

 

“I… I don’t know,” Ong shook his head. “I don’t know what happened.” Tears rose in his eyes again. He’d never been one to cry often, yet with matters concerning Daniel, they came so easy. “I- I don’t know. I don’t know-”

 

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Taeseob reassured him. His voice had taken on that sweet tone it often did. Though he often bore his tongue like a weapon, that tongue belied his authentic graciousness. “You do not need to say a word if you are truly at a loss.”

 

“I-” Ong sniffled, “I just- I wish I could figure it out.” His gaze floated upward as if the stars could lend him guidance. “I expected malice and I certainly received that, but… I lost my temper. We both did. We started fighting- really fighting. Not just words- well, words at first, but we quickly resorted to fists and...” Seongwoo’s hand drifted to his neck. “We were so angry. I- I don’t know, we just… Snapped.” He looked down at his hands.

 

“Snapped?” Taeseob asked.

 

“It felt like… I wanted to hurt Daniel so badly. I was so- so angry, so bitter - perhaps I still am. I just wanted to hurt him, but I…” Seongwoo struggled to find the words to explain it. “It was like I wanted him to hurt me, too. I just wanted pain because the alternative is just… Nothing.” Was that true? Seongwoo still felt uncertain. Yet the words had spilled out from between his own lips.

 

Taeseob reached out to squeeze Ong’s shoulder reassuringly, “I cannot say I understand, but… Thank you for telling me. It sounds like a heavy burden to bear and- and I must apologize.”

 

“Hm?” Seongwoo’s contemplation ceased, and he looked at the other confusedly, “For what?”

 

“For- well, for many things. For putting you in the position you found yourself in today. For- for not being there for you when I met you at the palace. For dealing with your transition so harshly… I suppose I underestimated the toll this took on you,” He gave Seongwoo a small grin, “You always seem so strong. Like nothing can shake you. Even as a young Captain, faced with the Council and an expectant crew, you do not waver. You’re truly talented, Seongwoo. Even I cannot read your thoughts all the time, as long as I’ve known you.” He chuckled, “You could be an actor in another life.”

 

Seongwoo frowned, “I suppose there is merit to the statement. I’ve fooled many in the past few months- and years, apparently.”

 

“Don’t let it weigh down your heart too heavily. A person can be deceived by others forever. One cannot go long fooling themselves, though.”

 

Ong chuckled wryly, “I believe I know that better than anyone. Look, if you feel the need to make insistences about what I’d done, be aware: I am not deluding myself about anything. I know- well… I know how I feel.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Taeseob’s lips upturned ever so slightly into a grin. He leaned in, hushing his voice to a whisper, “Shouting someone’s name while fucking them is rather a telling thing, wouldn’t you think?” With those words, he began striding away, a smirk across his face. Seongwoo’s head snapped in the direction of the other, eyes wide. Had he heard Taeseob correctly? He wondered if he’d gone mad. In no universe would his First Mate just imply such a thing.

 

Seongwoo started to ask, “Taeseob what are you-”

 

The First Mate turned with a shrug, “I’m tired of watching you hurt all the time. I’ve decided one of us ought to throw caution to the wind, so… Fuck it all. Have hope, Seongwoo.”

 

“Wha-?”   
  


“Have hope!” His voice increased in volume with the distance between them. He repeated himself once more before heading into the lower decks to his own quarters.

  
  



	9. On the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER 9 WARNING(s): N/A

“How about this one?” Hayoung’s voice echoed from across the elegant bedchamber.

 

“Too dark!” Namjoo replied from another corner of the grand room. The maids’ voices echoed loudly in the unoccupied quarters. With the flooding in of nobles, finding an unoccupied room had proved challenging. 

 

After juggling dozens of nobles - shifting their quarters around with both their requests and castle logistics in consideration - they’d managed to snatch away a small room. The place clearly had been intended for a single person. The beautifully crafted, dark furniture greatly offset the vivid soft furnishings with their tones of blue and gold. Only a single window let sunlight into the space, causing need for a few extra smuggled candlesticks from the maids. Thankfully, their small war room was tucked away far in the west side of the castle. Even with the crowds of nobles slithering Castle Jeon, their wing was scarcely traversed. 

 

Namjoo remarked,“Miss Eunji needs to look inviting and effervescent, not as if she is in mourning.”

 

“Violet is stately,” Hayoung protested. She turned toward the opulently carved ebony dressing table. A matching stool sat in front of it, and on top of that, a reluctant head maid. “What do you think Miss Eunji?”

 

Eunji furrowed her brows. Her gut twisted with nerves as she considered the woman looking back at her. Initially, their calculated plot to infiltrate nobility via charade seemed brilliant. However, as the time neared to don the fine clothes of some rich woman they'd swindled, she grew wary. 

 

Jung Eunji’s life had always woven intimately with the Kingdom’s nobility. She had seen highly titled people at their lowest of points. At an early age she learned what a noble’s mess said about them as a person. For years she quietly served and observed. Servants always loved to pantomime noble antics. With her years standing at the sidelines of noble life, she thought herself ready to act like one. Perhaps, she thought, that glib feeling of readiness had been ill founded.

 

“Whichever one makes me look more fair,” Eunji replied, looking at the two through the reflection in the mirror. She ran the silver horsehair brush she’d snatched through her hair nervously.

 

“Oh- that's a good consideration!” Namjoo said. She and Hayoung scurried to the side of the dressing  table, each holding the richly crafted garments they’d swiped stealthily from noble ladies. Coronation proceedings were happening as the maids spoke. Nobles from far and wide had stuffed themselves into the great hall to watch the ceremony take place. Picturing it made Eunji’s skin crawl.

 

Hayoung called after Namjoo, “Yes, that one will do! The fine amethyst one! Now, Miss Eunji,” She paced over to her senior’s side. Dipping her hand beneath her bustier, she withdrew a folded slip of paper. “Now, Namjoo and I have done as you’d asked and compiled more notes.”

 

“A-Ah, yes, of course,” Eunji nodded at her girl. “Read them off, then.” Eunji had tasked her girls with gathering as much information on her soon-to-be peers among nobility. Servants loved chattering about their lords and ladies - even moreso when offered something in exchange for their words. For the past week or so, the three had been diligently working the attendant staff of arriving nobles. While they’d hardly been able to corner everyone, the three had concluded a small few that may have been of use. 

 

Hayoung nodded and began scanning the paper, “Lord Kim Donghan,” She said.

 

“Ah- Yes, he has territory up to the northeast. Was a… A…” Eunji bit her lip in contemplation. “A- a cohort of sorts with the prince. Um- Education?”

 

“Yes, schooling. They’d both had the same dance instructor who was-”

 

“Lady Kahi!” The head maid said with a clap. “Yes, they both learned from her. Lord Kim has a large estate to the northeast and loves horses. His prized possession is a beautiful skewbald horse named Moomin. He’s rather affable, there ought not be any issue in conversing with him.  He has a petite concubine by the name of Kenta and is known well among court. He associates with the same circles as Duke Choi and, consequently-”

 

“Duke Hwang,” Namjoo joined Eunji’s side. She waved around an intricately embellished dress next to Eunji. The lustrous weave of the deep fuschia fabric shone in the candlelight. Though the color was uniform throughout, the dress looked excessively rich with stripes of alternating damask and floral patterns in the same tone. Gold lace accents embellished the neckline and hems. The ribbons attaching the sleeves to the bodice looked so silken and delicate that they resembled liquid. Merely being in such close proximity to such a garment stunned Eunji. The only time she had ever been allowed to touch such luxurious things had been to clean them. Now, she was to don one herself.

 

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Hayoung grinned widely, “That one will do. It gives her skin the appearance of moonlight.”

 

“Excellent!” Namjoo chirped, trotting off to put the dress aside for when they needed it.

 

Hayoung nodded with satisfaction before continuing with her note reading, “Moving forward… Oh! Duke Choi Minki.”

 

“R-right,” The head maid nodded, focusing on the more crucial part of the operation. “Duke Choi Minki. Has properties to the West - a rather impressive territory, I hear. He has a penchant for fine clothing and his duchy is home to a few rather prestigious ateliers. Speak to him about fashion and he will happily make your acquaintance. He is a close confidant of Duke Hwang. His concubine’s given name is JR. The other workers love him, say he’s rather polite.”

 

“And handsome!” Namjoo said from across the room.

 

Eunji rolled her eyes before continuing her mental cataloguing of facts, “JR is… A known associate of Duke Hwang’s concubine.” She quirked an eyebrow turning to Hayoung, “Some even say that the two are lovers.”

 

Hayoung nodded, “Yes, they are rather close. While there is no definitive proof of an affair, such hearsay has been floating around for quite awhile now.”

 

“Hm…” The head maid pursed her lips in thought, “I suppose their Masters would not be pleased to hear that such a thing would be true.”

 

“I should guess not. Duke Hwang strikes me as rather possessive. Or- Well, he likes things neat. Concubines being lovers behind their Masters’ backs isn’t neat, is it?”

 

“I would say not,” Eunji concurred. “Perhaps this is a connection that can be exploited.” She set down the horsehair brush she’d been fiddling with and picked up a cotton tuft. After opening a few of the little jars on the dressing table, she found the vermillion powder and began dabbing the cotton gingerly.

 

“Perhaps we could keep a close eye on the concubines,” Hayoung thought aloud.

 

“We needn’t focus heavily on servants at the moment. We must focus on the nobility for now. One of them must know something,” Eunji frowned at her reflection.

  
Seongwoo had left her with a jumbled puzzle, and she felt it her duty to solve it. Perhaps he had not left the letter with any such intention. Still, she felt strangely obligated. She could not surmise whether it was her own curiosity that spurred her forward or a desire for genuine closure from Seongwoo. Had she the ability too, she would have found the man herself and given him a piece of her mind. Yes, he had clearly deceived them all in his doings, but Eunji knew that at least some sliver of the man’s persona had possessed authenticity. Of course, the maid thought, that could have been her pride speaking. Learning that she had been tricked not only delivered a blow to her heart; it had also impacted her ego. 

 

“Yes- yes, of course,” Hayoung nodded. “Shall I continue?”

 

“Please,” Eunji replied. “I cannot waver with these people. Nobles smell fear like a dog does a bitch in heat. Any indication that I am not one of them could be costly.”

 

_ “Knock. Knock.”  _

 

A gentle rapping on the door caused the head maid to jump. Her eyes widened, and she froze in her seat.

 

“Oh- You haven’t any need for worry,” Namjoo piped up. She skittered over to the door quickly, “I summoned a few other people here to aid our cause.”

 

“Wh- You what?!” Eunji crossed her arms, indignation spurning her chest, “You- have you told people?”

 

Namjoo, her hand already on the door’s handle, looked at her senior sheepishly. Eunji glared at her, then at Hayoung.

 

“Were you aware of this?” She narrowed her eyes.

 

Hayoung’s composure slightly buckled under the other’s leering, “I- W-well, with such little time, we had to call upon a few of our most trusted allies in order to- to gather everything we needed.”

 

Eunji groaned, her hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose, “Just how many allies have you called upon? How many people know about this?”

 

Namjoo opened the door and greeted the newly arrived maids with a whisper, “Come along! Come in- Quickly now, we musn’t be seen!” She waved them in. A pout fixed on her lips, Eunji watched the procession of newly minted recruits to their stealthy efforts.

 

“Hello!” “Oh- Greetings, Miss Eunji.” “Miss, how do you do?” 

 

The door shut quickly behind them, and the head maid scanned their faces. Son Naeun, Yoon Bomi, and Park Chorong - a few more young maids that Namjoo and Hayoung were close to. Eunji sighed. At the very least, she trusted their company. The five were not without their quirks, but she felt rather assured none of the lot had incentive to turn coat. With a defeated sigh, Eunji’s shoulders slagged. She looked at Namjoo, her brows furrowed.

 

“While I am very appreciative of the extra help, I am most inclined to know: why must we have six people in this room currently?”

 

“Miss Eunji,” Bomi stepped forward with a cheeky smile. She dipped a hand into her apron pocket, “If I may; we would not have dreamed of arriving empty handed.” With that, she withdrew a luminous, sparkling chain of jewels.

 

Eunji’s jaw dropped. A pregnant pause filled the room as the other five girls stared on in anticipation. Resigned defeat loomed over Eunji’s shoulders, and after a few more moments of cogitation, she accepted her fate. 

 

With a sigh, the head maid rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve brought.”

 

Naeun, Bomi, and Chorong converged on Eunji like dogs around a hunk of meat. The three assaulted her with “borrowed” jewels, chains, and other adornments.

 

The head maid found herself the subject of her juniors’ poking and prodding. Hayoung rattled off rumors, questions, and court gossip while Namjoo and Bomi coordinated Eunji’s outfit. Naeun and Chorong busied themselves with the head maid’s face - plucking and pulling, slathering on poultices and dabbing on rouge.

 

* * *

 

Loud string instruments erupted from the open doors of Castle Jeon’s Grand Hall. Angelic voices accompanied the orchestra, weaving honeyed harmonies atop the stately melody. Throngs of noble people clamored to the entrance, queueing for their formal proclamation of arrival. Women donned their most stunning gowns; constructions of silk, taphata, velvet and brocade billowed out in the forms of voluminous skirts and ballooning sleeves. Not to be outshone, the noble men present dressed just as gayly; they donned a veritable rainbow of colors accented with fine metals, gems, and finicky accents. Ornate candelabras stood tall, their shining forms sparkling beneath the light of hundreds of candles. A dull, collective buzz spilled out from the Grand Hall, the chatter of hundreds of nobles no doubt. Brand new tapestries had been hung to commemorate the coronation; they had been painted with the likeness of newly crowned King Daehwi.

 

All who passed were so absorbed in their own agendas that they failed to notice the lone woman hiding behind an angel statue nearby. Eunji watched on, her heart pounding in her chest. She nibbled on her lip nervously as she observed the passers by. After hours of preparation, her girls had finally declared her ready. They had coordinated understated gold jewelry to pair with her stunning dark fuschia dress. Her hair had been coiffed out of her face, and the girls had even delicately fastened a few pearl pins into the plaits. Her outfit communicated richness but not excess; it implied rank and title while remaining unintimidating. 

 

For the evening, she was no longer Jung Eunji, one of Castle Jeon’s head maids. Instead, she was Lady Jung Hyerim. She was the eldest daughter of a Lord who owned land to the northwest. Her family’s fictional specialization in trade was rice. During her idle days as a titled Lady awaiting a suitor, Hyerim enjoyed playing piano and singing. She loved travelling to the shore and hated the cold. Her stance on expansion was passive, and she had full faith in the nobility to make the best decisions for their Kingdom’s future. 

 

Eunji fiddled with the ribbons at the cuffs of her sleeves nervously. A herald stood near the entrance, speaking to each noble who awaited their announcement of arrival. Though she felt confident she could slip in with ease, taking the leap to do so proved more daunting than she’d thought. Despite all of their preparation, she felt as if a sign emblazoned with the word “MAID” hung around her neck. 

 

In an attempt to distract herself, she mentally outlined her goals for the umpteenth time. There was much that Eunji wanted to know. A most ideal outcome would be one in which she learned the truth about Seongwoo. However, she knew such ease was merely a fantasy. Peculiarly enough, few people discussed the dead monarch’s concubine. Aside from servants spinning the tales of his transgression against the Duke, nobody seemed to care about his disappearance. It struck Eunji as rather odd that not a single soul expressed suspicion. She supposed that it merely spoke to how little people cared about the concubines. Not even the concubines Seongwoo had known spoke of him. When she had queried the likes of Hyunbin, Sanggyun, and even Samuel - the new King’s ward - they all had merely shrugged. The Duke’s ward had been practically inseparable from his Master since the King’s disappearance. Questioning him had been out of the realm of possibility. Duke Hwang’s insistence on keeping his ward at his side struck Eunji as most suspicious.

 

She and the girls had agreed that Duke Hwang above all others was their target. The Baes were suspicious, yet as high ranking sovereigns they were nearly untouchable. A shoddily spun story about being a Lord’s daughter certainly had little draw from such people. Queen Irene’s ladies seemed rather amiable, but Eunji had a hunch that they were not as unassuming as they appeared. The women always travelled in a close knit pack. Though they appeared carefree, Eunji knew that at least one among them had to be canny. Surely they would figure her out. Unlike men, they would not likely be blinded by a disarming smile or bat of the eyelashes. She considered it optimal to establish a sort of network prior to approaching them. If other nobles corroborated her, then she could approach the Bae ladies. Until then, she thought it best to keep a healthy distance. Sidling up to the newly coronated King was also out of the question, which left Duke Hwang and his confidants as the most vulnerable point of entry.

 

With that in mind, Eunji had decided to try her hand at befriending Duke Choi. He seemed fairly unthreatening. Even if the man knew nothing, his connection with Duke Hwang could forge a forward moving path for the maid.

 

Equipped with only her wit, Lady Jung Hyerim finally took her first step toward the Grand Hall. Her fists grasped at her skirt tightly, and she scanned the crowd anxiously. The well dressed nobles of the Kingdom glided along with grace. The maid labored to match their majestic gait, standing up straight and taking light, easy steps. Bodies clustered boisterously at the threshold of the ballroom, all eager to squeeze their way in. 

 

Eunji bustled along, nonchalantly wedging herself between a couple of nobles. The throng moved at a slow crawl, but the density of the crowd gave the maid assurance that she would go unnoticed. Feeling slightly more secure, she began to listen in on surrounding conversations.

 

“-es, I think he will be quite capabl-” -young isn’t he? They are getting younger and younger, these rulers-” “The Bae Queen is quite a beauty, isn’t she?” “-is that dress? How gauche-” “-not wait to return to my bedchambers tonight-” “The court concubines truly are a sight to behold-” “-h no! Not with the disastrous territory disputes down south. Those bandits-” “I am quite eager to see what his first acts as ruling King shall be…” “-the Duke has little experience on the battlefield. How is he to be advisor to such a fledgeling King-” “Did you see Queen Irene’s dress? The jewels sewn into the bodice are-” “-her little brother looks a bit of a dullard, doesn’t he? That same vacant expression on his face…” 

 

A lump of worry rose to Eunji’s throat as she neared the threshold. The richly adorned vaulted ceiling of the Grand Hall came into view. Covering the elaborately painted walls were more tapestries with the young King’s likeness. Each one depicted different aspects of the former Prince; one had the Jeon Chapel as a backdrop, another the battlefield (though the young man had never seen beyond the training grounds). Eunji felt as if the painted eyes of the King were following her, watching. She averted her gaze from the haunting images, focusing her eyes forward instead. 

 

The crowd dispersed slightly as she crossed the congestion point of the entrance. With the huge concentration of people, hiding in plain sight proved easy. Eunji wished she could feel relief at entering the grand reception. However, there was still much to do. She had accomplished the easiest of her tasks. 

 

Methodically, she made her way toward the perimeter of the room. The court orchestra’s music blared, filling her ears and making eavesdropping infinitely more difficult. Though she wished not to be distracted, Eunji could not help but glance toward the back of the room.

 

At the very back, atop an elevated platform, sat the newly coronated King Daehwi. The young man looked on, a prim look of serenity plastered upon his fair face. He looked unto the crowd with a projected fondness; yet, Eunji could not help the shiver that ran down her spine just looking at him. The grandness of the occasion warranted that no expense be spared on his appearance, and it showed plainly. His crown glittered and gleamed with even the slightest movement of his head. Light licked and lapped at every facet of the multicolored jewels encrusted in the gold casing. A deep red cape cascaded across his shoulders and down onto the floor, its collar made of a glossy white fur; the chain securing it around his neck bore rubies larger than Eunji’s eyes. Beneath it, he wore matching red doublet and breeches with sewn in jewels completed the outfit. An outfit dyed by the blood of his own kin, Eunji thought.

 

Next to Prince - no, King - Daehwi stood Prince Bae Jinyoung. He had been clothed in deep tones of gold, accented with a green so dark it almost appeared black. Despite his particularly broody exterior, he exuded a rather jubilant aura. Eunji wondered why. All who had seen him around the castle attested to his closeness with Daehwi, but the maid could not help questioning his motives. Did he know something that she did not? She narrowed her eyes at the pair. Suddenly, another tall, slender form ascended the platform: Duke Hwang. He shuffled over to the young King, telling him something hushedly. 

 

The man looked pale. Duke Hwang looked less like a man and more like a skeleton that had had a white sheet thrown over it and a few humanesque features drawn on crudely. Dark circles sat heavily beneath his eyes, and his lips were the color of alabaster. The man had clearly not seen meaningful rest in a long time. But why?

 

Eunji frowned. Despite her curiousity, she knew it imprudent to linger on the highest ranked noble people. She had to bide her time and build up at least a base of rapport. Once again, she looked across the crowd. After a few minutes of diligent searching, a noble she recognized appeared in the crowd; a rather ordinary looking man with thick eyebrows and a slender figure. In her reconnaissance, Eunji had come to learn a bit about Baron Kwak. 

 

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirts, Eunji weaved through bodies. Her eyes didn’t leave the Baron as she crossed the space, bumping into Ladies and Lords all the while. Though she felt as if a hundred eyes were trained on her, watching her every move, the maid forged forward. The Baron was an associate of Duke Choi, who was an associate of Duke Hwang. Her informants (Namjoo and Hayoung) had also told her that he had yet to marry. Lady Hyerim still awaited a suitor which made for an adequate foothold to begin. Though Ladies seldom introduced themselves to anyone - let alone strange men - Eunji supposed that the Baron would have to excuse her brashness.She prayed that, with the wine free flowing, making the man’s acquaintance would prove uncomplicated. That, she thought, would be a start.

 

Eunji took a deep breath. Though it rattled in her chest, coming out shakily, she made an effort to shunt away her nerves. With the Baron just a few paces away, the maid formulated the perfect plan. She took the final steps toward her first target, all the while muttering prayers inwardly.

 

“Wh- Oh!” Baron Kwak gasped as Eunji bumped into him roughly.

 

The maid in disguise feigned a look of devastated shock, giving the Baron a wide-eyed expression, “Oh- Oh my- I-” She curtseyed deeply, “My sincerest apologies, my Lord. Please, forgive my clumsiness. I am ever so sorry.” Eunji employed all of the ladylike charm she could muster, looking up at the man humbly through her dark lashes.

 

The Baron’s frustrated expression melted away, yielding to a genial smile, “Rest at ease, my lady. I am not so delicate that a gentle brush will blow me over.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” Eunji’s tone dripped with sweetness. She nearly felt ill from it. “Oh- Oh what bad manners I have. I nearly run one down yet I do not give them the courtesy of a name.” She curtseyed again, “Lady Jung Hyerim.”

 

Baron Kwak’s eyes did a lengthy journey up and down Eunji’s body. She groaned internally despite the assessment working in her favor. He smiled again, turning to face her front on. 

 

“A pleasure, my lady. Baron Kwak Aron,” He nodded, giving her a shallow, polite bow. “A fair flower such as yourself ought not wander without her husband.” He commented shamelessly. Eunji suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, coating her response in another syrupy slather of sweetness.

 

“Well, my Lord, only God knows where my husband is since I’ve not yet met him. Until then I suppose I am destined to roam these halls clumsily, bumping into Barons.”

 

The Baron’s grin widened, and he chuckled, “That sounds like quite the exhausting destiny, does it not?”

 

“Quite,” Eunji replied with a fake giggle.

 

“Have I- Have I seen you before?” The Baron asked suddenly. The maid swallowed nervously. “I mean to say, I do not believe I have seen or heard of you in court. What was your name again?”

 

“Lady Jung Hyerim,” Eunji replied nervously. She hoped her voice did not shake though her nerves twisted in her gut. “We’ve territory to the northwest- primarily rice farms. Of course, my papa is rather reserved. This is my first time at Court. If I may admit… I am a bit overwhelmed. This place certainly differs from our quiet estate up north!” She scrutinized Baron Kwak’s expression, watching for any indication of uncertainty or dubiousness. The man nodded in response, mulling over his response. After a pause that seemed to crawl on for hours, he responded.

 

“I remember my first time at Court, too,” He flashed her another friendly smile. Eunji wanted to drop to her knees and thank God in that precise moment. “Castle Jeon is rather grand, is it not? I cannot imagine being here for the first time again. I still find myself getting scattered - mixed up in the corridors and whatnot.”

 

Eunji let out a laugh, “Oh- Yes, that- that happened to me just earlier today. Quite a fright it was!”

 

“Perhaps you need a guide, then,” The Baron replied. The maid wondered if noble men were always so unsubtle or if the Baron was a special case. She then remembered that Seongwoo had been groped by a Duke and concluded that the nobles were simply a lecherous lot.

 

“A guide would be quite helpful,” The faux-Lady nodded in agreement. “There are so many people here at Court, though. Perhaps I should find it easier to make acquaintance, yet I struggle. Oh- Apologies, my Lord. You need not listen to such ramblings.”

 

“Not at all! Once again, I assure you, I understand your woes. I, too, grappled with the vastness of Court upon my first arrival. What I find most helpful is to have a friend introduce you to others. Lady Hyerim, you would do me honor by allowing me to be such an ally to you tonight.” Eunji grinned widely - this time, authentically. She nodded, taking the extended arm of Baron Kwak.

 

“It would by my privilege,” The maid replied.

 

* * *

 

“-and so the villager replied: I am sure a cartload of hay can cross the gate, so why should you not?” 

 

A choir of laughter erupted in the wake of Baron Kwak’s silly tale. Eunji had let herself be whisked away by the Baron and thusly found herself among the man’s company. Though she recognized few, Duke Minki had joined the conversational cluster, much to her excitement. Initially, nervousness had paralyzed the “Lady”, causing her to stutter and clam up. However, over time (and with the aid of wine) she had managed to loosen the reigns, letting her charms take over. Noble men loved talking. They loved talking about their estates, their trade, their livestock, their children and themselves. With the addition of spirits slackening their tongues, Eunji rode the wave of giddy chatter with relative ease.

 

Little information of value had been said, much to her dismay. However, it had been well established that Duke Hwang Minhyun had been appointed advisor to the King. Strange, Eunji had thought, the man had never looked to be very close to King Daehwi. Yet there he stood, dutifully next to the monarch upon the platform. Advisor was no mere trifle to take on. With the title came lofty responsibility and power. Did King Daehwi have incentive to promote the Duke to that position? Or had the Duke’s ascension been orchestrated by his own will?

 

“-hat? Absolutely not. We took it nearly a decade ago!” An animated argument broke out among a few of the Baron’s cohorts. Eunji smiled, listening on with bluffed humor. 

 

“No, it’s been sold. Arranged years ago, I believe,” Another man answered. The maid’s eyes followed the two as they went back and forth, all the while little conversations going on independently of the two. 

 

“What? When? That makes not a bit of sense.”

 

“I don’t know when. Just that it has. You can ask Lord Han - he works in records here.”

 

“I’ve not met him, only seen him. He’s the keen archer, is he not?”

 

“Yes, a damn impressive hunter. He’s no dullard, though. He told me months ago, actually.”

 

“I don’t believe you. For what reason would we sell Crescene?”

 

Baron Kwak, apparently also paying attention, raised his eyebrows with interest, “Crescene? You mean that little island?”

 

“Yes, that’s the one!” Another one of the men chimed in. 

 

“It’s been sold?” Baron Kwak scrunched his nose. “But that’s a fairly new acquisition, isn’t it? We occupied it just decades ago.”

 

“Less than,” Duke Choi chimed in.

 

“Yes,” The Baron nodded, looking down in thought, “It was a naval base, was it not?”

 

The Duke pursed his lips, shaking his head, “It had been seized with such intention, however- Remember that disastrous invasion from the western territories?”

 

“Why- Of course I do. The vermin stood no chance. It was rather pitiable on their part, really. They could have saved so many lives by laying down their arms.”

 

“I concur, but I heard that was the reason we pulled out of Crescene. It sat deserted for years. Unused.”

 

“Hm. I suppose I hadn’t heard much of it after the acquisition. I was rather young, though. And I’d gone overseas for studies...”

 

“Personally, I commend whosoever made the decision to rid us of that rock,” Another one of the noble men said glibly. “Last thing we need is dead weight. We’ve enough of a stronghold on the continent, no need to jeopardize that.”

 

“Who in the hell would it have been sold to?” The Baron asked; the manner in which the words dropped from his lips made them sound more like a passing thought than a conscious inquiry. Eunji conceded that the man raised a good point. If the Kang nobility had sold an island to someone, to whom would it have been? They owned the majority of the continent - save for the Bae territories to the north. Yet, as far as anyone - including titled courtiers - knew, the Kingdom and the Baes had not made contact until the springtime. Had they been allies for much longer? Eunji pouted slightly. She had warmed up to the Baron in hopes of gathering answers, not receiving more questions.

 

“It matters not,” Duke Choi shrugged. The way his slender figure wavered and his flushed skin betrayed how much he’d had to drink. “When the Prince forges an alliance with the Baes in a formal capacity, we can have anything on the seas we want.”

 

Eunji bit back a frown. She gripped the smooth fabric of her skirts tightly to compensate. Something about the Duke’s certainty unsettled her. He spoke truth: cooperation with the Bae Empire did promise more power than the Kingdom had ever known.

 

Baron Kwak snorted, “You sound so sure. Those Bae people are rather polite, but I feel as if they have little care for our affairs.”

 

“You only say so because that Lady Wendy so coldly rejected your advances!” The Duke tittered.

 

The Baron gasped with gall, quickly turning to Eunji so he could smooth his reputation over, “He jests. Clearly Duke Choi has had an excess of wine to drink tonight! A man of your stature should practice moderation!” He jeered at the other.

 

Duke Choi giggled, “It is a celebration! No less, your words do not diminish my correctness.”

 

“You have too much confidence in those Bae people,” The Baron clucked his tongue.

 

“Do I?” Duke Choi quirked an eyebrow, and a mischievous grin crossed his lips. He looked across the small gathering of nobles that stood among them. “Then let us have a friendly wager!” The men and ladies let out loud, enthusiastic cheers in response. “I shall bet- hm… I shall bet a night with my JR that our King Daehwi will not let the Bae people leave without forming some sort of alliance with them. And, I promise you all, no matter your preferences, my JR does  _ not  _ disappoint.” Claps and hollers followed the announcement, along with a few muttered comments that Eunji wish she hadn’t heard. It took all the strength she possessed not to pull a face of disgust at the Duke’s offering. 

 

“Well,” The Baron projected his voice above the increasingly rowdy nobles they conversed with. “I prefer a more traditional, material bet. Twenty-five gold for when the Baes leave in haste after this coronation gaiety subsides.” Another collective of “oohs” and “ahs” followed the Baron’s retort. 

 

“I thank you in advance for the contribution to my coffers,” Duke Choi snarked. He faced the others, “Who else wants to place their wager?” Soon, everyone had a stake in whether or not the Baes would invest in the Kingdom.

 

“I put ten gold on an alliance!” “Those Bae people keep too many secrets! One of my finest dogs on no alliance.” “Five gold, no alliance!” “I’ll put fifteen on an alliance!” 

 

With each yelled offering of gold, livestock, or other valuables, Eunji’s heart sunk lower and lower. An allegiance with another continental power had the ability to alter the fate of thousands. Such a decision would impact the entire population, even if only subtly. Such things were often discussed over months and painstakingly negotiated. The possibility of Daniel’s death being connected to the Baes ceaselessly stuck in the back of Eunji’s mind. Yet, there stood the courtiers of the Kang Kingdom, throwing their riches at the issue as if it was nothing more than a passing amusement. The noble conversation grew louder, and the wagers more absurd.

 

“-o I’ll double you on that! Fifty silver!” “What about that hat you’ve got - you know the one. With the feathers, I love that hat! If you are so confident, put that on the line-” “May I wager a night with you, Duke Choi-” “How about her hand in marriage-” “May I put ten silver on the Queen marrying King Daehwi?” “She would never give up her territory or rule.” “Nonsense! She is a woman, it is her duty to bear heirs and let a man-” “-ought I put my thoroughbred in as well?” “Up mine to twenty-” 

 

Suddenly, above all else, a loud, clear voice rose, yelling, “Hear! Hear!” All heads turned to the source of the voice, a herald standing atop the throne platform.

 

“Hear! Hear!” He called once again, bringing the entire Grand Hall to silence. The abruptness with which everyone quieted alarmed Eunji. Nerves persistently pulsed in her blood, making the very surface of her skin tingle. Swallowing down the anxious lump rising in her throat, she directed her attention to the newly crowned King. 

 

King Daehwi rose gracefully, as if lifted on a cloud. His jewels and the luminous textiles of his outfit caught the light, making him twinkle with each step forward. Eunji noticed that, just behind his majesty, Prince Jinyoung and Queen Irene strode forward as well. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what they had to do with the King’s address.

 

“My most beloved people, greetings and God bless you all,” King Daehwi addressed the room with a smile. “On this day, I stand before you no longer a boy, but a man. No longer a Prince, but a King. Your King.

 

Alone, I am but a paltry young man, lacking in all but faith. It is with a heavy heart that we have sent my kin to heaven, but know that from it we come to know the strength of this nation more. The fortitude of you, of all the loyal subjects of this Kingdom. My strength lies in the righteous hearts of all standing here, and for that I must express my gratitude.

 

God teaches lessons in ways that mere man cannot comprehend. He hurts, kills, and takes. His ways leave even the most pious questioning his goodwill. He tests the faithful, plunging them in insurmountable darkness. In these most trying of times, one can fall deeper into the trench of despair, or they can hold onto their faith and fight. The faithful are rewarded. They are given a torch with which to navigate the most mournful of trials.

 

God granted unto me a light so bright, so immeasurably luminant, that no shadow or demon could shake me from my righteous path.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Baes, nodding at them. Eunji watched with wide eyes as the royal siblings paced over to join King Daehwi. Prince Jinyoung took to the young King’s side while Queen Irene stood between the two, a pace behind them. From the crowd, a man of the cloth emerged. Judging by his palatial robes, he was a bishop - likely the one who had presided over the coronation. Eunji’s heart stopped.

 

King Daehwi joined hands with Prince Jinyoung, interlacing their fingers. The bishop stepped to the side of the others, causing the maid’s anxiety to spike further. She clasped at her skirts as a shudder took over her body. Though she knew little of the truth, the sight inspired terror in her. An intense aura of malice surrounded the entire affair. She felt helpless as an onlooker, yet her consciousness cried out for some sort of a halting.

 

The young King continued speaking, “If the past decade of instability within our nation has taught anything, it is that we must not dally. We must remain ever vigilant, following the righteous path forged for us by God.

 

He sent me a most illuminating light - Prince Bae Jinyoung,” He briefly glanced at the Prince with fondness, “And so I will apply from the teachings God has so diligently given us through these most challenging years. I will not dally, I will not sit upon my hands. I come amongst you with a most joyous announcement. For today is not only the day of my coronation.

 

On this blessed day, I proclaim my betrothal to Prince Bae Jinyoung.” He said triumphantly, a smile blossoming across his lips. “With him as my consort and Queen Irene to bear the delegate, we shall light the way to a new era for our Kingdoms. Let this shining beacon of triumph, deigned unto me by God himself, serve as radiance not only for myself, but for all of us! We will not wait; our union shall be in two month’s time.

 

With the partnership of the Bae empire, you, my beloved people, shall soon receive the rewards which you so greatly deserve. Together, we charge forward, denouncing tyranny of our oppressors, taking what is rightfully ours. For this God-granted union is no mere arrangement, but a destiny, a fate for a greater future for us all!” 

  
Queen Irene stepped forward, placing her hand on top of the King and Prince’s conjoined hand. The bishop stepped forward as well. His holiness began rattling off a blessing whilst Queen Irene acted as the entity giving Jinyoung over. The nobles bowed their heads as the bishop droned the prayers of betrothal in a dead language. 

 

Eunji dipped her head but stealthily kept an eye on the crowd. Duke Choi did little to hide his smug satisfaction whilst Baron Kwak labored to keep a straight face as he pretended to be devout. The maid scanned the room for more familiar faces. The King’s ward kept a straight face, unsurprisingly. He stood a small distance from the platform, toward the back of the room. Eunji suspected that the boy knew nothing, anyways. Perhaps his status as concubine was to be brought into question, but that was of little consequence to Eunji. Queen Irene’s ladies carried themselves composedly, bowing their heads serenely. The maid wracked her brain in search of someone else, some other hint. Then, once again, she found him: Advisor Hwang Minhyun.

 

He looked more sickly than before. Merely looking upon the man caused nervousness to flare up in Eunji’s stomach tenfold. His body visibly shook. For what, she wondered. Illness? Fear? Or perhaps, she mused, what caused him such unrest was something else entirely:

 

Guilt.

 

* * *

 

“You may all send my winnings to my bookkeeper via courier,” Duke Choi said, sticking his nose up pompously. 

 

Just as quickly as it had seemed to onset, the solemnity of the King’s address dissolved quickly after the betrothal ceremony. Once again, the orchestra had taken up their instruments, and those on the dance floor resumed their jaunty steps to the rhythm. A sickening, ill sensation had made a home in Eunji’s gut, but she tried to appear just as giddy externally as her “peers” did. All she could think about was Seongwoo. She did not know why, but she felt as if Seongwoo ought to know. Whether the King’s assassination had been orchestrated by the Baes, the new King, or the Duke, it did not matter. All three of the suspicious parties had enough stake to send people looking for the escaped concubine. Surely, whoever had committed the heinous deed causing King Daniel to disappear did not want loose ends. The implication of aggressive expansion also left a nasty taste in Eunji’s mouth.

 

“I concede you this victory,” Baron Kwak muttered in defeat. “Meet me in the parlor for cards, then we shall see who has the last laugh!”

 

“If you so badly wish to be bested twice, I will happily take you up on that,” Duke Choi laughed. He turned to Eunji and raised his eyebrows, “And what of you, Lady…”

 

“Hyerim,” Eunji said, throwing on a disarming smile.

 

“Hyerim! Oh, how funny. There is another young woman with a very similar name. Lady Kim Yerim - she is one of Queen Irene’s ladies in waiting.”

 

“Oh, is that so? Quite a coincidence,” Eunji cursed internally. She did not want anyone giving her name too much thought.

 

“Lady Hyerim, do you play cards?” Duke Choi asked.

 

Yes, Eunji thought, and I’d rob you lot blind if I could, “No,” She said. “I mean- I know the rules and such, but I’ve never been much good at it, I’m afraid. If you’ve any tips I shall listen eagerly. Being usurped by my brothers is quite frustrating!” She feigned a pout. The men keened at the cute gesture, a chorus of offers to help immediately following.

 

“Well, he may not look it, but Baron Kwak is actually an incredibly intellectual man. While I beat him at cards often, not many can,” The Duke chuckled. Baron Kwawk rolled his eyes, his cheeks staining red. “I imagine he will have many tricks for you.”

 

“I would happily hear them some time, Baron,” Eunji said, forcing out a giggle. Among all the simultaneous conversations, one of the particularly loud noblemen managed to crop up above the rest.

 

“-Crescene’s ours for certain now!”

 

“I swear, I thought we’d never lost it!”

 

“But we had! I told you- the bookkeeper-”

 

“Well, no matter. One flash of our new navy - after the wedding - and whoever owns it will be kissing King Daehwi’s boots, begging him to take it!” 

 

Eunji unconsciously murmured the word to herself, “Crescene…”

 

“Hm?” Baron Kwak, turned to her, an eyebrow quirked. Eunji nearly jumped out of her dress. Mentally scrambling to recover, she stuttered out a response.

 

“C-Crescene. It- it sounds much like the word crescent, does it not?”

 

The Baron chuckled, looking down at her fondly. Eunji despised feeling the other’s affectionate gaze on her. She felt oddly violated even though the man was merely looking at her.

 

“That is correct,” The Baron said, “That is where the island’s name comes from, since it is in the shape of the crescent moon.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Eunji nodded, “Duke Choi was rather spot on, then. You are quite the intellectual.” She added the compliment in hopes that it would oust any possible suspicion the man would have had about her words. The Baron took it eagerly, grinning ear to ear.

 

An island in the shape of a crescent moon. At first, the mental image looked a bit funny to Eunji. She pictured it, a land mass shaped like the moon. It seemed rather an impractical shape for a residence, but, then again, land did not fall as humans saw fit often. Then, in the midst of her imagination, a spark ignited.

 

An island in the shape of a crescent moon.

 

A crescent moon.

 

The moon.

 

Words snapped to the forefront of her mind; words she’d read so many times they had nearly burnt into her eyelids:

 

_ “Gaze upon the moon and know I am there.” _

 

“Lady Hyerim?” Baron Kwak’s voice penetrated her contemplation.

 

Eunji snapped back to the present, “Y-yes, Baron?”

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Perfectly fine,” Eunji reassured him with a sweet (fake) grin. “The music just carried me away momentarily. Those court performers are truly sublime.”

 

“Ah, that they are. Well, I had asked if you would like to join us in the parlor for cards shortly.”

 

No, Eunji thought. Her thoughts once again strayed to Crescene. The moon. She glanced across the small base of acquaintances she’d amassed. Among them were a few lords, a Baron, and a Duke - a fairly decent amount of power among them.

 

“It would be a privilege,” Eunji said, curtseying, “However, if I may, I must excuse myself briefly. May I meet with you once again at the parlor?”

 

Baron Kwak nodded, “Of course, my lady. We shall play in the blue parlor in the east wing.”

 

“I eagerly await our reunion,” Eunji replied. “Until then, God bless you all.” She curtseyed again and bid farewell to the gathering of noblemen. Picking up her skirt, she trotted off, away from Baron Kwak and his associates. When she had once again obscured herself in the crowd, she let out a breath of relief. 

 

The maid left the Grand Hall as quickly as she could without rousing any sort of suspicion. She scurried down the corridor, the chamber orchestra’s music fading as she distanced herself. Eventually, the strings and hum of loud conversation died down to a vague echo. She turned corners and ascended steps hastily, taking the winding twists and turns she’d long memorized.

 

Scanning the corridor she’d run to, she felt thankful to see it empty. 

 

She hadn’t expected anybody to be roaming that particular hall at such an hour, but paranoia’s grip on her remained ever steady. The maid heaved a sigh of relief and leaned heavily on a nearby statue. For a moment, Eunji rested. The fine lady’s shoes had begun to hurt her feet, and she wasn’t used to having a corset cinched so tight. Being a lady of nobility had never seemed so tolling; yet, Eunji began to see why the woman complained so much. While she still thought their existences a trifle, she saw how feigning enthusiasm could take a toll on a woman.

 

After collecting her breath, Eunji reigned in her motivation. Her shoes clacked against the tile, echoing loudly down the empty hallway. Finally, she stopped in front of her destination: a library.

 

_ “Creaaaaak.” _

 

The old door groaned as the maid slowly opened it. When met with nothing but inky darkness, she grabbed the nearest candle she could find and carried it in with her. 

 

This had been his library, she thought. Seongwoo’s library. The one he and Guanlin had practiced writing in. The one Seongwoo spent most of his time in. Her heart dipped at the thought of it. Despite her assertion that Seongwoo was alive, it felt not unlike entering a mausoleum. A few books had been left askew, and an inkwell sat on the desk, lid missing. She wondered if anyone had even entered the place since the two departed. She had never seen or heard of anyone else using that particular library. 

 

After lighting a few candles on one of the desks and the walls, Eunji began scouring the shelves. She had cleaned many of the castle’s libraries but never actually spent much time in them. Holding her handles to the book spines, she squinted in hopes of finding what she was looking for. The maid saw a bit of everything: poetry, prose, informative works and even scientific texts. Finally, she found precisely what she had wanted to find; down the spine of a particularly large book, the words had been printed in dark ink:

 

“REFERENCE ATLAS VOL. XI”

 

The maid slid the book out carefully and took it to one of the desks. A small cloud of dust kicked up when she opened it, and the smell of musty paper tickled her nose. Gingerly, she turned each page, scanning the charts and maps in hopes of finding what she sought. There were maps depicting the terrain of specific areas and maps charting the flow of rivers. Some charted the precise layout of cities while others vaguely outlined territories. She flipped through more quickly, looking for maps of the coast or seas. More and more blue predominated the pages, and she knew her answer was near. She stopped, a small gasp leaving her lips when she landed on the page. There it was, clear as day, outlined in dark ink against the vast blue sea, southeast of the Kang coast.

  
The moon.

  
Crescene.

 

“Gaze upon the moon and know I am there,” Eunji whispered to herself.

  
Ong Seongwoo was on Crescene.

 

The noblemen’s chatter drifted into the maid’s mind again;  _ “Crescene’s ours for certain now.” _

 

She pictured it clearly, King Daehwi announcing their first joint mission - their first glorious step toward their destined future. Why, she wondered, if Seongwoo was on Crescene - would he damn himself in such a way. Assuming he had aided in the ascension of King Daehwi to the throne (therefore giving the Baes the Kang military power and riches), it would have damned him. Would it have not? Eunji tossed around the puzzle pieces in her head, her brows furrowing.

 

Ultimately, she could not figure out why Seongwoo would flee to an island doomed for invasion.

 

“Unless…” She whispered to herself, nibbling her lower lip in deep thought. “Unless he did not know that they were to take Crescene at all- no, but…” She tossed her ideas around once more. Something still did not quite calculate. 

 

He had said that he had “worked with someone in the castle to execute this heinous deed”. Eunji realized: even if Seongwoo had done something to King Daniel, that did not necessarily mean the Baes were a part of his plan.

 

“What if he did not know?” She wondered out loud. Her voice raised as her apprehension escalated, “What if he did not know he was damning himself- damning Crescene?” She narrowed her eyes at the map again, tapping the little sickle-shaped silhouette. “What is on Crescene that draws Ong Seongwoo…?”

 

Thinking on it more, she realized it did not matter. He was in danger, and whatever he wanted to protect on Crescene - whatever had drawn him to that place - would soon be overrun with Kang and Bae soldiers. Her heart skipped a beat; a swell of sick rose from her stomach into her throat. Seongwoo was in danger. He was in danger, and he had no way of knowing it. The man would be on that island and he knew none the better.

 

“I have to tell him,” She whispered to herself. Breathing became more difficult, and she was not sure whether to fault her corset or her panic. She knew it likely a combination of the two. Laboring to steady her breaths, the maid thought. She thought and thought and thought. She dedicated every ounce of focus and concentration she could muster toward formulating a solution. Surely, the Baron would soon be wondering as to her whereabouts.

  
That’s it, she thought.

 

The Baron.

 

* * *

 

The Onyx Vengeance creaked and groaned. From within his cell, Daniel could hear the muffled crashing of waves and footsteps above. Occasionally, exceptionally loud hollers or banging noises seeped in through the cracks of the wood. His chains clinked softly with the gentle rocking of the ship. The prisoner sat in the corner of his cell, atop the covered heap of hay they’d given him for a bed.

 

A dull ache had settled into his chest. It had taken up residence there ever since that man had left him. Hate knocked at his heart, but the sensation lacked conviction. Instead of sharp stabbing, the loathing merely manifested in a feeling of vague sickness. Occasionally, the intensity flared up, like a strike of lightning, it would shock his entire body, and he would seethe, laying curses upon the man who had betrayed him. Without fail, those episodes passed, and with them a feeling of numb covered his passion like a thick blanket. 

 

Daniel’s head nodded forward, and his eyes drifted shut. He quickly snapped awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes for the umpteenth time. Sleep had been tainted for him. When he’d first been captured, sleep was Daniel’s only escape from the hell he’d been thrown in. Unfortunately, the Captain - ever insistent on ruining everything - had ruined that as well.

 

Every time Daniel felt himself drifting off, disgusting memories poured into his head; the delicate touches and the not so delicate ones, whispered affections and lingering looks, kisses in the rain and interlaced fingers. All of the things Daniel had thought too good to be true had turned out to be just that. He felt ashamed for ever believing in such a thing.

 

Daniel questioned why the man had bothered keeping him alive. As a trophy? Or did he merely wish to torment him until the end of his days? If the Captain wished such a fate upon the former King, then, so far, he had been succeeding in imposing it. The prisoner had nothing. He had less than nothing, for what little life he had in him was actively being taken by the Captain. With nothing material to be taken and no allies in sight, the Captain still managed to steal away Daniel’s sleep.

 

Had it not been for his determination to see the Captain’s head on a spire, the prisoner would have wished his life to be taken as well. He clung to his craving for revenge with a white knuckled grip. Despising the Captain was the only thing Daniel had left. The one emotion that wasn’t tainted, something that the Captain could never take away. He determinedly held onto his grudge lest he lose his will to live entirely.

 

_ “Bang!!”  _

 

Daniel’s eyes widened at a sudden, thunderous noise.

 

The door to his cell swung open, slamming into the wall with a heavy thud. Daniel’s eyes widened, and he jumped back. He readied himself for another confrontation with the Captain. The man lunged forward, yanking the prisoner by the collar and throwing him forward.

 

_ “Thud!” _

 

Daniel winced as his body collided with the wall of his cell. The abrupt force knocked the wind out of his lungs. He choked on his breaths in his attempt at recovery. Anxiety swirled with pique and rushed through his veins. Though his body still felt weary, he had tired of being yanked around by the will of others. Angry he pushed back. Blinking the stars out of his eyes, he came face to face not with Captain Ong Seongwoo, but with his old friend: Yoon Jisung. 

 

“What the hell is this, Jisung?!” Daniel snarled, his jaw locked in an expression of gall. Confusion and annoyance stung his throat.

 

“How dare you play coy,” Jisung shook his head in vexation. “I understand this is a grim circumstance we are in, but my husband?”

 

Daniel’s face scrunched in bafflement, “Sungwoon?”

 

“Yes, Sungwoon- do not tell me that you've not even the decency to recall his name,” The former advisor huffed.

 

“Wh- Of course I do- I- what of him-”

 

“How dare you!” Jisung lunged forward again, shoving Daniel into the wall. The prisoner collided with the creaky barrier once more, but he'd been prepared that time.

 

“How dare I what?!”

 

Jisung took a deep, shaky breath. His body shook as he visibly tried to pare back his fury. The sight did nothing to soothe the bubbling swill of nerves burning Daniel’s insides. 

 

“Daniel, you had everything,” Angry tears welled up on Jisung’s eyes, but he resolutely kept them from falling.

 

“What?” The imprisoned King felt his blood run cold. His ire compacted, forming a lump in his throat.

 

“You had everything,” Jisung repeated himself more quietly, “Title, money, power… You- you could have had anyone you wanted,” His voice steadily began to rise, “You had  _ everything _ !”

 

“Jisung, what are you- what are you saying-”

 

“And you tossed it all away because you could not - for once in your life - compromise. You just  _ had  _ to have the concubine-”

 

“Stop,” Daniel said. He clenched his fists.

 

Jisung laughed humorlessly, “You are not my King. I no longer need to follow your orders.”

 

Agony stabbed Daniel in the chest, “Jisung, please-”

 

“No!” The older man yelled so loudly that his words continued to rich octet off of the walls long after he'd shut his lips. Taking another shaky breath, Jisung once again reigned in his apparent rage to speak. “No. You turned your back on your people, childishly clinging to your precious little whore-”

 

“Stop-!”

 

“-all because everything just wasn't enough, was it?”

 

“Stop it-”

 

“And when your ill founded trust landed us here you- you just couldn't stand being with nothing so you took the one thing I had left. The one thing I had that you could never have.”

 

“I have scarcely taken a meal since my imprisonment,” Daniel replied brought gritted teeth. His outrage began to curb, giving way to utter confusion.

 

Jisung scoffed, “He is my husband, Daniel. How- how could you?” Devastation seeped through his facade of intimidation.

 

Daniels face fell, and silence billowed into the room like a thick fog. The prisoner wished he could answer Jisung, assuage his clearly troubled soul. However, a single thought predominated his mind. More than anything else, Daniel wondered: what the hell was Jisung talking about?

 

The prisoner blinked confusedly as he considered all he knew about Sungwoon, Jisung’s husband. He'd been so distracted, so consumed by his own despair, that he hadn't stopped to consider the other concubine’s fate. He realized that, perhaps, Jisung blamed him for whatever fate had befallen his husband. Unfortunately, Daniel hadn't  the slightest inkling as to what that fate was. While the nobles’ condition indicated the grim possibility of captivity, Daniel knew Ong had favored the man. Thinking on it more, he recalled how thoroughly fooled he had been by the Captain. His heart sunk slightly. Perhaps Sungwoon had faced an equally damning sentence.

 

“I- I'm sorry,” Daniel finally conceded. Jisung had a point. It had been his naively trusting nature that had damned them all. He frowned, “What news have you received of your husband?”

 

“So you refuse to admit it?” Jisung's tone of bitterness returned with a vengeance. 

 

Daniels patience wore thin. He knew more than anyone on that ship the crucial role he played in the destruction of their lives. His silence very clearly spurned more contempt from his old friend. Jisung did not wait for the other to collect his thoughts before attacking again.

 

“You took-” He took a step closer, “-everything. You fucked our Kingdom. You fucked my life, and then you fucked my husband!” Jisung threw a punch in Daniels direction. Daniel, all too familiar with having fists hurled toward him, ducked to the side.

 

“Bang!!” The echoes of knuckles against wood sounded thunderous in Daniel’s cell. A hiss from Jisung followed the hollow sound quickly, along with a few muttered curses.

 

Daniel’s mouth fell open and all of the anger built out flooded immediately, “What?” He asked, eyes wide in bafflement.

 

Jisung huffed as he shook out his hand, “Think I wouldn't find out? You know those pirates can't keep their mouths shut. They quite enjoyed watching my husband get dragged out from here. Said it was quite the show you two-” His voice cracked slightly, and his composure slipped for a second. Tears welled up once again, “you two put on.”

 

“Wh-” Daniel blinked rapidly in hopes that it would help sort his thoughts. “Sungwoon is- is he on the ship?”

 

“Stop it! Do you think at I am a fool?! Do you know how- how- what it feels like-” Jisung’s voice wavered more by the second, “-to hear about how loud your- your love screams when he is fucking another man?” 

 

“Jisung, I assure you, you are mistaken,” The prisoner shook his head. Acute annoyance still tinted his mood, but he labored to sound as composed as possible. Sounding irritated would accomplish nothing other than further rustling the other, “I- I would never do such a thing to you. I understand how precious your bond is. Please, trust what I am telling is the truth. How can you take the word of pirate’s over mine? I- I’m so confused, I’ve just seen you for the first time since all this madness broke loose.”

 

Jisung’s lips snapped shut. He took a step back, and his eyes fell onto the floor. Wringing a hand through his hair, he heaved a deep sigh. Slowly, the man came down from his state of disarray. The palpable aura of anger between the two thinned. After a brief spell of silence, Jisung answered the other.

 

“Shit,” Was the first word out of his mouth. He sighed again, “I- I can’t believe I’ve done this.” His eyes stayed on the floorboards, but twiddling fingers and fidgeting lips betrayed the shame he felt.

 

Daniel let out a breath he’d been unaware of holding, “Jisung, please. If you can explain this madness, I- I will give my best attempt at helping, but, as you can see…” His fingers grazed the heavy metal collar around his neck, “My position is hardly a favorable one.”

 

“Daniel, I- I apologize,” Jisung finally met the other’s eyes. He bit his lip nervously as he proceeded, “I- God.” His expression of embarrassment fell. It went limp, replaced with a gawking look of shock. “What’ve they done to you?” The older man stepped forward again - this time without ill intention. He scrutinized the imprisoned noble, giving him many looks up and down.

  
  


Daniel looked down at himself. It wasn’t as if he had the luxury of a looking glass. He scarcely kept his eyes open, let alone to observe his own state. Part of him dreaded to think of what he’d see should he cross a reflective surface. The slight layer of grime was expected. Through the billowing placket of his shirt, one could clearly see the outline of his sternum and collarbone. Something he hadn’t noticed prior stuck out to him. Splotches of purple and green poked out from the thin fabric of his shirt. Bruises. His fingers slowly rose toward his lips. He’d tasted the iron and felt the roughness of the skin. Apparently, they looked just as abused as they’d felt.

 

“You need not concern yourself with me,” Daniel replied flatly. He rushed to divert the subject, “What of you, though? Your affairs? Your husband? Jihoon? Is he- are you all safe? And- and what is this rage about-”

 

“Alright, alright-” Jisung held a hand up, “Let’s do one at a time, shall we. Perhaps we ought to sit down.” He lowered himself onto the floor slowly. Daniel’s chains clanked loudly as he did the same until the two were seated across from one another. Secretly, the imprisoned man felt grateful. He’d opted to begin eating again, but his strength still had a long way to recover. The room still spun slightly whenever he moved too quickly; any respite from the dizzying sensation of activity was welcome.

 

“Daniel…” The former advisor frowned at the sight before him. No doubt he thought the dethroned monarch pitiful. “What- what have they done to you? What have they been doing to you?”

 

It happened again. The flashes. The rapidfire succession of vivid, knee-buckling, toe-curling memories. Their images flooded his eyes and the sounds of the gasping Captain blared in his ears louder than cannon fire. For an instant, his fingertips remembered the sensation of the other’s skin beneath his, pliable, warm, and wanting - yet furious at the same time. The taste of blood lingered on the tip of his tongue; the desire to prod and lap at flesh had imprinted on the muscle.

 

“Daniel?” Jisung’s voice snapped the prisoner out of his daze. 

 

“Hm- I- Apologies,” Daniel shook the invasive memories from his head. “I… I…” He considered what he would say to Jisung. Ought the man know all that had transpired with the Captain? And what of his hunger strikes? Surely such things would cause his old friend great concern. “They have imprisoned me, and so here I have been. I am bound. I am fed. I find myself lapsing in and out of consciousness often.”

 

“And what of these bruises?” Jisung pressed. “Do not tell me you have inflicted them on yourself? Shit- We’ve no power here at all. It’s- it’s not fair- that bastard took everything from us- from you. The- the Captain-” His eyes widened, and he swallowed nervously. “You are… aware of this ship’s mission, yes? Were you ever informed?”

 

Heavy weight pressed down on Daniel’s heart. It plunged deep down into the recesses of his stomach, reigniting the nauseating sensation of exasperation he’d worked so hard to quell. Daniel took a shaky breath in hopes that it would clear his thoughts, allow him to think straight. Unfortunately, it did nothing to bridle the poisonous pressure that had been building up since he’d last seen the Captain.

 

“I was,” Daniel answered flatly. His nails unconsciously dug into his legs, leaving stinging crescents. “Our lives for an island.”

 

“And…” The older man’s voice softened, “And you know who commands this ship?” He eyed the bound man closely, dissecting his reaction.

 

Daniel’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone level, “I do.” Those were the only words he could manage without boiling over into a seething rage. Myriad curses floated through his head, dozens of monikers more suitable for the bastard than “Captain” or “commander”. The mere insinuation of the man choked him from the inside; his throat tightened at the thought of his treacherous concubine. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Jisung squeezed Daniel’s knee in a gesture of comfort. “I know you were fond of him.”

 

Fond did what he felt for the other no justice. Daniel was fond of marzipan and the color pink. Dancing was something he was fond of. The traitor? What Daniel had felt for that man - the man he’d been charading as - had well exceeded anything he’d felt for anyone.

 

In imprisonment, there had been a wealth of time to think it over. Though it caused him despair, Daniel couldn’t help but mull over just what had transpired between the two in Castle Jeon. Despite hours upon hours of nothing but reflection, the former King still yielded few concrete answers. He’d asked himself so many things: Why him? Why at that time? Why did you not listen to your close friends? Most tormenting of them all:

 

What made you think that he would ever have loved you?

 

Despite all his reflection, Daniel could never conclude why he had fallen so fast for a stranger. Was it desperation? Delusion? Loneliness? Still, the lack of a reason did nothing to diminish what he had felt: a suffocating need to live with the other. The mere thought of living without him had filled Daniel with despair. He had no wish to know a life without that man by his side. Something about the thought of losing him filled him with dread. He had felt almost certain that no other would have the effect on him that his concubine had. As if losing the concubine meant losing love for the rest of his life. 

 

Of course, it had all been a ruse the entire time. He’d lost something that he’d never genuinely had, and his Kingdom had lost everything along with it. Instead of reading signs, listening to warnings, or doing what was best, Daniel indulged himself. For that, he felt immense guilt. Such a disastrous chain of events would never have been triggered from mere “fondness”.

 

“The bastard deceived, captured, and imprisoned us,” Daniel answered resolutely. “I harbor no fondness for him.”

 

Jisung nodded, seemingly accepting the answer, “I see. I- I apologize for coming to you in such a state of rage, as well. I suppose this imprisonment has strained my wits more than I’d thought… I feel foolish for giving the crass talk of pirates any consideration at all.”

 

“I accept your apology for the force used, but you need not apologize for the stress this has all caused you. You were right,” The edges of Daniel’s lips turned downward ever so slightly, “It was my lack of prudence that landed us here. Not only have I endangered myself, but I have dragged those closest to me into the depths of it as well… What precisely did you hear, if I may ask?”

 

The older man sighed; his pupils fleed the other’s gaze, seemingly embarrassed, “I- I heard loud snickering and banter. Crude talk about lustful conquests… One of the little asses spun a tale about watching my Sungwoon get dragged out from your cell by the Captain and his First Mate, loudly chastised for- for-” He mumbled the last few words, barely audible, “For laying with you.”

 

Daniel let out a sharp breath, galled; shaking his head, he replied, “How absolutely wretched. I am kept chained to a wall yet they insist on wounding me further. I am sorry you had to hear such a thing.” He shook his head, “It makes no sense to spin such a rumor. Sungwoon and I of all people.” Crossing his arms, Daniel rolled his eyes, “What amusement do they get from alleging I fucked Sungwoo-”

 

Suddenly, the spark of recognition ignited. Daniel’s face fell, and his words abruptly cut off. Before he could stop it, images rushed to his head once more. They flooded in, filling every nook, cranny, and crevice to the brim until there was nothing but him: Seongwoo. Groans, mewls, forlorn utterances of his former Master’s name, they all bounced around in his head endlessly. Much like the Captain had bounced on him, a writhing, trembling mess. Even in that state, he looked breathtaking. The way he shakily clung to the prisoner, shuddering 

 

“I did not lay with your husband,” The prisoner said wryly. “I- I laid with… With someone else.” His heart hammered in his chest. He had no idea what sort of reaction to anticipate. Though he’d admitted his faults, would that exempt him from contempt? Jisung had long prior tried to shake him from his delusions, but he hadn’t listened. Did the advisor harbor resentment? Daniel had no blame for him if he did.

 

“What?”

 

“I… The- the Captain and I- we- we-” Daniel took a steadying breath, making his admission with eye contact, “I laid with the Captain. He came to meet with me, inform me of- of his mission.”

 

Jisung’s eyes narrowed, and he studied Daniel closely, “Daniel, be truthful. Do you still harbor any affection for that man? Any lingering feelings- even an inkling-”

 

“No!” Daniel cut him off more loudly than he’d intended. His hands balled up into fists in his lap. “No,” He said again, more calmly.  Enmity once again staked his chest, but he ignored it. “Our collision was merely a- a boiling over of tensions. We both needed release, so we sought it. I- I nearly killed him.” Daniel’s heart sunk recalling that particular moment of their encounter; another confounding component of the storm brewing in his chest.

 

In that moment, he had wanted to hurt the Captain so badly; it had blinded him. He hadn’t felt a throat beneath his hands nor did he see the look of futile struggle on the man’s face. His life had been ended; he’d been plunged into the unknown, afraid and alone. For that instant, he had wanted the other to know precisely how that felt. Then the Captain had closed the gap between them. Not even Daniel knew what would have happened had the other not brought their lips together. 

 

Trying to make sense of it only filled the prisoner with panic and alarm. Knowing the precise depths to which he’d sunk just days prior gave him no comfort. In the end, all he knew for certain was that he was in pain. He was in pain, and so was the Captain. They inflicted it upon one another and drowned in the sensation. 

 

Newly determined, Daniel looked Jisung straight in the eye and reiterated his point, “I laid with the Captain, but I assure you, I have no affection for the man. Once again, I promise I did not do anything with your husband.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Jisung answered flatly.

 

Daniel’s shoulders sagged with relief. The pressure on his heart lessened momentarily. Suddenly, it dawned on him how strangely Jisung had answered. The man’s expression had changed. All of the pique and bafflement had melted away. Jisung looked at him discerningly with steady, serious eyes. Daniel recognized the glint in the other’s gaze.

 

“You… Knew?” Daniel asked. Jisung only wore such an austere expression when he had something precarious to propose.

 

“My husband informed me rumors would be rampant. He told me of the occurrence.”

 

Daniel furrowed his brows, “Th-then why ask me? Why- why come in here with- with a fit of rage? And- and throw fists?!” Annoyance flared up in his chest.

 

“I needed to hear it from you,” Jisung responded calmly. “I needed to know you would tell the truth.”

 

“Wh- Why would I tell you anything else?!” The prisoner felt liable to jump up and grab the other by the collar at any second.

 

“I apologize for deceiving you, but I need to know that I can still trust you.”

  
“What?” The prisoner’s eyes blew wide open. He began losing his grip on composure, “You accuse me of being untrustworthy?!”

 

Jisung remained poised as ever; without wavering, he elaborated, “That man had you under a spell. He is clearly cunning and capable. I had to know that you were not still captivated by him- that your little… Incident was just that: an incident.”

 

Disquiet washed away the prisoner’s indignation. His expression softened, and he slumped once more. Under a spell? He wondered: had he really been so enraptured by the concubine that he’d appeared to be enchanted? Had his reverence for the other been so strong that it made even his closest friend question where his loyalty lied? A hollow formed in Daniel’s chest.

 

Determined to win back the faith of his best friend, Daniel responded firmly, “I have no affection for that man. None.”

 

“Why did you do it, then?” Jisung asked insistently.

 

The prisoner answered firmly,“I haven’t felt relief like that since we’d gotten taken. Trust, I informed him precisely how much I loathe him after the fact.”

 

The former advisor scrutinized the prisoner in front of him again. It felt like eons to Daniel. The other knew him better than even Jihoon. Jisung, though typically easygoing, possessed a sharpness that many overlooked. He had never flaunted his brilliance or showed off. Instead, the man had always employed it strategically. While he seemed unassuming, Daniel did not doubt that Jisung had spent some time considering his approach to the former monarch. It made the prisoner feel foolish, in hindsight. He felt that he ought to have known something amiss when Jisung had entered so brashly. It wasn’t like him at all.

 

“I believe you,” The former advisor finally said after a few silent moments of consideration.

 

“As you should,” A frown had long fixed itself on his face. He felt ashamed that he needed to regain the trust of his best friend, but moreso he felt glad to have it back.

 

“Once again, apologies for the charade.”

 

“You needn’t apologize more. Did you… Did you storm in here just to assure that I was not in love with our captor?”

 

Jisung shook his head, “I needed to assure that you could be trusted.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, I have a plan.”

 

“A- a plan?” Daniel quirked an eyebrow in interest. “What do you mean? What sort of plan?”

 

“Simple,” Jisung said. “We do to him, what he did to us.”

 

“I- I don’t understand.”

 

“I needed to assure you hold no affection for that man because I have reason to believe he still has a shining for you.”

 

“He does? I- I mean- what does that have to do with me?”

 

“Simple, we use his methods against him,” The advisor proposed. “You sidle up to him, a repentant, meek lamb. Attain his trust. Bend him to your will.”

 

Daniel’s eyes widened, and his heart lurched, “You want me to- to-?”

 

“We will continue towing the line, absorbing as much seafaring knowledge as we possibly can. When the time is right, we procure small boat and leave quietly. Frame the Captain for aiding and abetting in our escape. We can return home, and you can know the sweet, sweet taste of vengeance for having done what had been done to you.”

 

“Why bother using his supposed affection for me as an instrument? It seems...” Daniel bit his lip apprehensively, “Risky. Imprudent.”

 

Jisung sighs as if a child had asked him what two and two adds up to, “You know damn well that man is going to watch us like a hawk otherwise. We need an adequate distraction. Something that will occupy him without necessitating some sort of disciplinary action. I’ve no doubt Jihoon could tug that man around, but it’d be at the risk of his neck. We as a whole must behave if we are to survive.”

 

Daniel tossed the idea around in his head. In honesty, it was paper thin. What were Jisung’s plans? How could they manage to secure a vessel big enough for a safe trip home without arousing suspicion? Was he to bat his eyelashes at the Captain and attain a ship? However, the alternative was a life sentence of labor (that was an optimistic prediction). The rickety nature of the plan’s logistics paled in comparison to the plot’s true draw:

 

The opportunity to completely, thoroughly devastate Seongwoo on a profound level appealed massively to Daniel. 

 

The prisoner gave it no more consideration beyond that. That, he decided, was what he wanted: to go home and hurt Seongwoo.

 

“A-and your husband is aware of this? And Jihoon?”

 

Jisung shook his head, “I’ve yet to tell Jihoon of it. I needed to assure that you were in the proper state of mind since you are key to this working. As for my husband… He will have to forgive me for this. I understand he cares for the Captain, but he does not belong on some island. He belongs by my side. He may need time, but he shall see things my way.”

 

Swallowing nervously, Daniel looked Jisung in the eye, “Alright. Tell me more.”

 

* * *

 

Court musicians strummed rolicking tunes from their small corner stage in the green parlor. While many still were in attendance of the reception at the Grand Hall, a select few had retired to parlors to engage in less reputable diversions. Nobles drank and laughed mirthfully. Games of dice and cards had been laid out on the tables. Concubines and ladies hung off of the noblemen wagering their riches and properties frivolously.

 

“Ah-ha!” Baron Kwak clapped triumphantly. He teased Duke Choi who sat across from him, “I shall win back my debt twenty-five gold at this pace.”

 

Duke Choi moped animatedly, “We shall see about that. JR, deal for me the next round,” He blew a kiss to his concubine, slurredly adding, “And assure that the trick is extra lucky- for me.” His handsome concubine merely laughed in amusement, obliging and sliding the cards into his hand.

 

“My Lady,” Baron Kwak turned to Eunji who had taken a seat next to him. She had been half dazed since joining his side half an hour prior. “I believe you are my good luck charm. Never have I won two tricks in a row.”

 

“Huh- Oh, yes,” Eunji quickly scrambled to rejoin the present. She lowered her voice, leaning close to his ear,“B-but are you certain you wish to try your luck on a third one?”

 

The Baron raised an eyebrow, considering her words, “I suppose you’ve a fair point. It is unlikely that luck shall favor me for three rounds in a row… I- I apologize, my Lady. Is this boring you, is that what it is?”

 

Eunji caught the Baron’s eyes with her own; she gave him the most earnest expression possible, trying to look like a dame in need of rescuing, “In truth, something is weighing on my mind.”

 

Once again, the ever vigilant Baron fell for her wiles easily, “Shall we step out briefly and discuss it? Concern does not become your features - though you are fair no matter what your expression. It wounds me to see a Lady of your stature distressed.”

 

“Baron Kwak, you truly are an exceptional gentleman,” Eunji said. She wanted to choke herself for exhibiting such nauseating behavior.

 

“Come,” Baron Kwak said, standing up, “Let us get a breath of fresh air.” He turned to the others at the table, announcing, “We will be back shortly.” 

 

Baron Kwak led Eunji a short distance down the corridor from the parlor’s entrance. A few nobles walked to and fro, but they were isolated enough for the maid’s comfort. 

 

“What is it, my Lady?” Baron Kwak asked, a look of sincere concern on his face.

 

Eunji took a deep breath, preparing to recite her rehearsed farce, “Well, Baron, to tell you a bit more about myself, I have a sister. Her name is… Eunji. Yes, Eunji. She is married to a man of title - he is not of our Kingdom, so you would likely not have met him. Her marriage was arranged, you see - as they often are. Her husband is a good man, he provides for his family, but… She harbors no affection for him. She, well- You must promise me you tell nobody of this, Baron.”

 

“Wh- Of course, you have my word,” He nodded assuredly.

 

“Well, my sister Eunji had an affair, and now she is with child. She told her husband that she’s visiting our aunt in the west, but in truth she is living out the term of her pregnancy on an… Island estate.”

 

“I see. I imagine her husband does not know of this. Does anyone aside from you know of her condition?”

 

“Just- just a few maids,” Eunji replied, nodding.

 

“I imagine bearing the weight of such knowledge can take a toll on someone,” Baron Kwak said sympathetically.

 

“Yes- yes, right. That it does. It just- the King’s announcement gave me such joy, such- such excitement! Did it not invigorate you?”

 

The Baron beamed, “Yes, King Daehwi is young but quite inspiring. He will grow into a formidable leader. I am… Quite relieved to have such a decisive, well-spoken leader at the head of our nation now. In tandem with the power of the Baes, it leaves nothing to question. We shall have security, something we direly need.”

 

“I… Completely agree with that,” Eunji said, hoping her disbelief at the man’s words did not seep through her tone.  “Yes, I am so excited, but… I’ve no way to tell my sister of this news. It- it truly despairs me. And they are to be wed in such a short time! She shall completely miss on the festivities. I am simply… I am simply…” Eunji reached deep within herself. She brought the most sad, painful memories she could recollect to the forefront of her mind. Letting out a sniffle, she willed tears into her eyes. 

 

Baron Kwak gasped. He rushedly reached into his jacket, taking out a kerchief. Eunji shocked herself by causing a single tear to fall. Adding more loud sniffles to the charade, she took the kerchief with a shaky hand.

 

As she gently dabbed the tear from her cheek, she continued, “I just- I had planned on being at court a bit longer, and- and-” She sniffed again, “How am I to tell my sister when my- my messenger is all the way at home. It is such a far, far ride away I-” The maid scrunched her face up dramatically, thickening her tone, “I cannot even share in simple joys with my sister for she is so far away.”

 

“I have a messenger with me,” The Baron said frankly.

 

Eunji wanted so badly to smile, but she diligently maintained her sham.

 

“Hm?” The maid asked.

 

“I always make sure to have a messenger in my company should a need arise. It would be my honor to come to the aid of a fine Lady such as yourself.”

 

Lord help this desperate soul, Eunji prayed for the man mentally, “Are- are you sure? I- I would never intend to trouble someone such as yourself. A man of- of such stature and honor-”

 

“Please, my Lady,” He lowered his voice and looked Eunji in the eyes. Eunji wished so terribly that she could look away, but societal convention and personal need warranted it undoable. “Let this be the first of many tokens of affection I grant unto you.”

 

Help me, Eunji pleaded with God.

 

The maid quickly realized that among all the court etiquettes she’d attempted to learn, being courted was not one of them, “Oh, B-Baron Kwak, I- I am honored. Thank you, I- Yes. I would be privileged to have your regard.” She gave him a smile, hoping that it did not betray her desire to jump out of the nearest window. The Baron looked overtaken with happiness which made Eunji feel worse.

 

“In that case, my messenger stays in the staff’s quarters downstairs. Merely have one of your servants ask for Jason Fei and he shall assure the message reaches your sister.”

 

“E-even on an island?”

 

“Yes,” The Baron nodded, “I have a ship for small expeditions. My messengers occasionally use it for my personal correspondence.”

 

“A-and it will be completely in secret? With my sister’s condition I- we cannot risk anyone learning of it. And it must be quick- a rush order. I- I can even subsidize your messenger if need be.”

 

“Yes, yes of course. Though the seas have been perilous, rumors have it that the pirate activity has died down quite a bit. He can make a safe trip with haste,” He chuckled. “You are quite the cautious one, aren’t you? I admire prudence in a lady. Many are rather thoughtless.”

 

What an insufferable thing to say, the maid shouted in her head, “Once again, your kind regard honors me.” Jason Fei, Eunji reiterated the name in her head. That was her ticket, she thought, her way to communicate with Ong Seongwoo. Just the thought of it filled her with relief. She hoped that the Baron’s messenger would genuinely be able to complete the task. Unfortunately, unless she sidled up to a dozen more malleable noblemen, the Baron was her only option. 

 

Eunji’s shoulders sagged with relief, “You have put my mind at ease, Baron. I cannot thank you enough.”

 

“Your beautiful smile is thanks enough, my Lady,” The Baron replied. “Feel cheered enough for another round of All Fours?”

 

Eunji wished so dearly she could reject the man, but court decorum dictated that she be polite company for as long as the man wished. Taking Baron Kwak’s arm, she prayed that the man tired easily. Beneath the richly crafted clothes and alabaster makeup, Jung Eunji was still a maid, and she had work to do the next morning.


	10. One Leap for Piratekind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER 10 WARNING(s): N/A

Eunji trotted across the damp morning grass toward the west stables of the Jeon grounds. The morning’s sun rays gently kissed the surface of the lawn, transforming the dew into twinkling gems in the golden light. Few took to the grounds at such an hour save for the gardeners. Even they were sparse, more likely tending the grand gardens than the plain lawn leading to the stables. The expansive structure of stalls grew quickly with the brisk pace the maid too toward it. She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed and searching for someone who appeared to be the messenger of a baron.

 

Soft whinnies and huffs entered Eunji’s ears as she grew closer. Horses stood row by row, all tucked neatly into their stalls, huffing and whinnying softly. All save for one who stood saddled and ready, held at the reigns by a young man clothed in a cloak. A silver brooch kept it secured around his shoulders, and though Eunji could not discern it clearly, she guessed that it bore the crest of the Kwak family.

 

“Good morning, sir,” Eunji greeted the man, curtseying conciliatorily. No longer bearing the pretense of nobility, she took extra care in keeping her eyes on the ground. “I approach under orders from my Lady, Jung Hyerim. May I inquire your name?”

 

The man nodded affirmatively, “Sir Fei, at the service of the honorable Baron Kwak - and his confidants, of course. You come to deliver her message?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Eunji nodded. She extended her hand to present a sealed envelope. “I am to impress upon you that the utmost secrecy must be used in the transport of this letter.”

 

“I have been informed to use my discretion, yes,” Sir Fei answered, taking the envelope. He furrowed his brows at it, turning it over in his hands for a few moments. “And to where is this going to be delivered.

 

“The Lady’s just had the cartographer draw up a map for you this morning,” Eunji lied. In truth, she had instructed Naeun (who had proved to have the steadiest hand) to copy a map in haste. Unfolding the maid’s sketch, Eunji pointed to the small, crescent-shaped island off the southeastern coast. “Here,” She pointed to it. “You are to deliver the message here.”

 

Sir Fei took the map and studied it carefully. For an instant, he blinked at it confusedly, his head drawing back. He brought the piece of paper close to his eyes, squinting at it again. 

 

“This can’t be right…” He muttered.

 

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Eunji asked, looking at him pointedly. A drop of sweat formed at the nape of her neck. If the Baron caught wind of a message being sent to Crescene, it could be the end of her ruse. She swallowed nervously, watching the cogs inside the man’s skull grind against one another.

 

“I just… Are you certain this is where your Lady wishes her message to be sent? To- To-”

 

“Crescene. Yes, that is correct, sir,” Eunji answered confidently. “If I had not given the proper elaboration before, allow me to reiterate myself. Lady Hyerim’s sister has taken ill and consequently has sought care across the sea.”

 

“There are doctors there? I… I thought Crescene was abandoned-”

 

“It most certainly is not- I tell you with the utmost respect.”

 

“Hm… I suppose they were just… Unverified rumors. Still, after the military pulled out-”

 

“If I may remind you, sir, the Lady’s sister is in most dire a condition. Time is most precious, and with every moment we spend dallying, my Lady shall be wondering why her heartfelt letter has not been sent forth to her noble and good sister!” Eunji tried not to sound as cross as she felt. When had messengers become so inquisitive? “Unless, of course… You are incapable of making the journey. If that is so, I shall inform Lady Hyerim with immediacy so alternative arrangements can be made in has-”

 

“Settle, settle!” Sir Fei held a hand up. He glanced at the map again, raising a brow, “Very well, then. I shall see to it that Lady Hyerim’s message is delivered in a most timely fashion.”

 

Eunji’s shoulders slackened with relief, “My Lady will be most grateful to hear such news. I have no doubt that a handsome compensation will await you upon your timely return. Now, I am told that a trip to that place can take between two and a half or three weeks. Do you believe you will achieve such a time frame?”

 

Sir Fei chuckled as he slipped the letter and map into the breast pocket of his coat, “Tell your Lady that she may rest easy and expect my return in four weeks time, for I shall make the round trip in two!”

 

Eunji gasped, “Two weeks?! From here all the way to Crescene.”

 

“Without question,” The man puffed his chest up as he answered, “I have reputation for being one of the fastest, most efficient messengers in the Kingdom. My navigation skills cut my time by days.”

 

“On behalf of my Lady, I shall pray for a steady, safe journey,” The maid clasped her hands in front of herself, grinning gratefully.

 

“I graciously accept your blessing,” Sir Fei answered. “Now, if you would be so kind, I’ve a message to send. I wish not to delay my departure any further.”

 

“Of course. Farewell, sir,” Eunji said, curtseying deeply once more. Sir Fei gave the maid a nod before striding over to his horse. 

 

The head maid watched the man as he mounted his steed and began trotting off. Hooves pounded loudly against the damp ground as the great creature took stride. Eunji’s eyes remained fixed on the departing form until its silhouette disappeared in the distance.

 

“Two weeks,” She whispered to herself. Numbers rolling around in her head, the maid looked down at her fingers to do some quick adding. “Two weeks there… That gives Seongwoo… Six weeks to prepare.”

 

Six weeks, she thought to herself. It sounded like many, but she knew better than to let the idea of time deceive her. It always passed much more quickly than a person would think, ceaselessly sneaking forward. Would that be enough time for Seongwoo to prepare for whatever was to come?

 

The maid frowned. It was no longer in her hands.

 

“I hope I’m right about this…” She whispered to herself as she began hiking back to the Castle proper.

 

* * *

 

  
“Land ho!” “Land ho! We see land ho!” “Land? Where?”

 

Without warning, bodies clamored toward the railings of the main deck. Crew scuttled swiftly up the steps of the forecastle and hosted themselves up onto the ladders of the masts. The mere echoings of land reached the lower decks, and in seconds people began climbing out from the lower decks, one after the other. Boots against wood sounded out like a stampede, and the flurry of bodies nearly trampled the Captain.

 

“Land ho!” “Land ho!” “Land ho!” “Is that really it, over there?!” “Is that our home?” “Crescene is really there! It looks alright!” “Is that the Admiral’s flagship?” “Land ho!” “Land ho!” “Land!” “It’s really here!” “I can hardly believe it!”

 

Eyes wide, Seongwoo gripped the nearest railing in hopes that he wouldn’t get plowed over. Taeseob joined his side, his feeble body nearly being turned into a ragdoll by the undulating crowd of pirates flooding the deck.

 

“Captain! Captain! We did it! We did it!” “Captain, look, d’you see it?!” “Wow, it’s so green.” “Land ho!” “Land ho!”

 

After getting a steady hold on the forecastle railing, Seongwoo finally swallowed his nerves and looked forward. His face fell, and for an instant, everything around him dulled and dimmed. The last time he’d seen that place, flames had engulfed its shores. Yet, there it stood. In the distance, it looked entirely the same: the same, craggy outcroppings, the same cliff facing the western side. A white bar of sand hugged the shore, and from it worn docks cropped out. When he squinted, Seongwoo could nearly make out the harbor.

 

“She’s beautiful!” “I call dibs on that spot! Right there! I’m going to live there!” “What? No, I’m living there, on top of that hill!” “Land ho! Land ho! Everyone, yell it with me!” “Land ho!” “I can’t remember the last time we’ve properly docked-” “Land ho!” “-not stowaways-” “Land ho!” “-no sneaking around-” “I claim that hill then.” “Wh- You can’t claim a hill when we’ve not even settled yet.” “Land ho!” “I just did.”

 

A hand on top of Seongwoo’s pulled him back onto The Onyx Vengeance. He jumped slightly, surprised by the sudden act of affection. Turning to his side, his gaze met that of his First Mate’s. Taeseob grinned with scarcely contained glee. Tears brimmed in his dark eyes, and he bounced slightly.

 

“-’m tellin’ you, you can’t just take what you want.” “Mine, mine, mine-” “Stop pointing at things and calling them yours!” “Do you see the Slate of God?” “Land ho! Land ho!” “Crescene is so pretty, I’d only heard stories about it!” “Trees! Trees!” “Guanlin, come up here! Come look at this!” “Land ho!” “That’s definitely the Brunet. I recognize Captain Yunho’s flagship from the old wheat mission-” “Land ho!” “She’s so pretty, she is.” “I wish momma could see this…” “Land ho!”

 

Seongwoo finally cracked. An airy laugh ejected itself from his lungs, and his face scrunched. Heat rushed to his cheeks and welled up in his eyes. The hand that wasn’t covered with Taeseob’s shot to cover his face as his vision started to blur. The Captain held onto the railing for dear life. He felt in danger of floating away or collapsing.

 

“Are you crying?” “N-No!” “Land ho! Land ho!” “And it’s all ours!” “So pretty, the hills…” “I’ve never seen Crescene.” “Did they really leave it?” “-mine, mine, all mine-” “You can’t claim land just by pointing at it!” “Land ho!” “Someone fetch my brother!” “I can finally visit my father again.” 

 

“Skraa!” A faint, avian call rang out in the air. The wide wings of the beast flapped, its majestic form closing in on the Vengeance rapidly.

 

“That must be our scouting report,” Taeseob muttered absentmindedly, watching the creature circle their vessel.

 

“S’pose so,” The Captain answered. All too soon, the avian predator dove toward the forecastle.

 

Seongwoo’s eyes went wide. He stumbled back, warily extending his arm for the massive creature to descend upon. Swallowing nervously, the Captain watched the noble falcon flap its wings as it lowered itself. Clawed feet perched delicately on the extended arm, and the beast steadied itself. Ong prayed that the creature did not detect his nerves; the thing had always made him nervous.

 

“Good morning,” He greeted the creature colloquially as if it would respond. The brown bird of prey merely blinked at him. Gingerly, Seongwoo reached toward the pouch secured around its neck. He withdrew the letter within swiftly before bidding the falcon a hasty farewell. Relief flooded him as the beast lifted off, beating it’s great wings rapidly. It flew off, its silhouette racing toward the island in front of them.

 

“What do you think it is?” Taeseob asked, an eyebrow quirked.

 

“Hm,” Ong grunted, regarding the letter bearing a familiar, black seal, “I suppose we shall find out.” He slipped his finger between the paper and wax, anxiously unfolding the letter within. 

 

“Captain Ong Seongwoo & First Mate Go Taeseob

 

Scouting reports thus far have returned clear. Crescene remains unoccupied prior to our arrival. Years of neglect in conjunction with the sea has eroded coastal infrastructure; however, Captain Qri’s scouts have evaluated the foundational structure of coastal Crescene as worn but promising. Most crucially, the docks stand solid.

 

Dock The Onyx Vengeance to the western side adjacent The Brunet. Convene with the Captains Yunho and Amber upon arrival. Do not move the secured prisoners; an order will be issued after more thorough deliberation.

 

Your Admiral.”

 

Seongwoo glanced up at the island fastly approaching on the horizon. He took a deep breath in hopes to quell the nerves jostling inside his chest.

 

“What’s it say?” Taeseob asked, squinting over the other’s shoulder.

 

“Here,” Seongwoo passed the letter over without taking his eyes off of Crescene.

 

The First Mate took a brief moment to scan the writing before speaking again, “I see…” He let out a hefty breath, “This is good.” He nodded, speaking more firmly than before, “This is good, Captain. Crescene is- it’s good.”

 

“Worn but promising,” Seongwoo replied, “That’s what the Admiral said.”

 

“Yes. Promising- precisely. That means that it can be built up. That the Kang people didn’t blow the entire island to bits before leaving.”

 

Seongwoo’s brows furrowed and he squinted at the island ahead of them, “Does it not strike you as odd?”

  
“What?”

 

“Do you really suppose they left without a trace- that- that they truly just abandoned an entire island. For- for what? What if- what if something’s wrong with it? Something that we cannot see?”

 

“The only wrong thing here is you,” The First Mate chided. “You seem to be looking for something wrong. Are you trying to invite misfortune?”

 

“I-” Seongwoo pressed his lips shut and sighed, “Perhaps you are right. I… I still scarcely believe it.”

 

“As I have said before, I understand your hesitance, but you must remember: you are no longer alone,” Taeseob found the other’s eyes, boring into them pointedly with raised eyebrows, “This is not just your mission. It is our mission. All of ours. Every member of the Black Council and all the crew they command are working toward this settlement. Perhaps you are right, and something will go catastrophically amiss. Then what?”

 

“If you intend to calm me, your rhetorical has done the opposite!”

 

The First Mate chuckled, “What will happen - in the face of catastrophe - is that we shall do what we always have. We will work together to find a solution. You have the support of an entire Armada behind you.”

 

“Right,” Seongwoo answered; in truth, while he understood the sentiment he could not commit to it. An itch of illness persistently scratched at the back of his mind. “Right,” He said again, more emphatically. In cases of disbelief, Seongwoo opted to substitute self-assurance with projected confidence. Even if he did not believe in fully the smoothness with which his mission had unfolded, his crew need not know that. 

 

Leaning over to his First Mate, the Captain muttered, “Let’s make the order, then. We must have a tailwind with how fast we approach. Soon the docks will be in sight, no doubt.”

 

“Yes, Captain,” Taeseob grinned brightly, nodding.

 

Taking a deep breath, Seongwoo barked out an order as loud as he possibly could, “Begin preparations for docking!” He hollered behind him, across the forecastle and main deck. The bustling crew momentarily halted, all heads darting in their commander’s direction. The expressions of happiness they’d had before paled in comparison to those they wore upon receiving the order. A choir of “yes sir”s and “aye”s answered back, and crew began rushing around to reach their posts. Seongwoo remained still and watchful in the midst of the chaos. He crossed his arms and watched silently as the deckboys rushed to hoist the mooring cables.

 

"Taeseob, I want you to wrangle our Lieutenants," Seongwoo leaned over to instruct. He pressed his lips together nervously. In the past few days, Ong had gnawed on them so much due to anxiety that they'd grown sore.

 

"Yes, sir," The First Mate said obligingly.

 

"Have them gather the prisoners - all of them - and have them ready on the gundeck once the bulk of the crew's cleared out. I've reason to believe our 'deliberation' shall happen shortly after we disembark."

 

"Wait," Taeseob's nose scrunched, and he blinked in a deliberation of his own for a few moments. "Do you believe they will want to meet our prisoners?"

 

Seongwoo heaved a deep sigh; he nearly began to bite his lip again but stopped himself, "I feel certain of it. It is not as if we can hide these men away for eternity. I shall feel more at peace knowing that I can control some of this first encounter. Perhaps..." His mind drifted for an instant; images drifted across it lazily - a vague recollection of faces, heated words exchanged, chapped lips and watery eyes. "Perhaps this will assure our good Admiral that the men we harbor may be prisoners, but they are also people. They are humans that can be reformed."

 

"Humans that can be loved," Taeseob muttered.

 

Ong's eyes shot wide open, and his jaw dropped. His heart jumped into this throat, choking the agonized curses he wanted to yell at the man.

 

Taeseob, quickly realizing what he'd said aloud, gasped, "I- I- Captain, I apologize. It- it was an honest slip of the lips. I- I do not mean to-"

 

"Never mind that," The Captain answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a knot of dull pain begin to form in his skull. "Just- Just have the lieutenants do as I command. Oh- And make sure they look..." Seongwoo wracked his brain for the appropriate word. "Good"? It hardly seemed realistic to expect anyone kept prisoner to look good. Even insisting on cleanliness proved fairly optimistic on a pirate ship. The Captain wanted to reassure the Admiral that he'd been practicing as he'd preached; that he had been, in fact, treating his prisoners like people. Though he felt certain the woman would lose no sleep knowing the opposite, he felt inclined to showcase his goodwill. 

 

“Land ho!” “D’you think we could make this distance if we swam?” “I’ll bet you!” “Land ho!” “Grab the stern side mooring cable!” “Land ho!”

 

“They’re going to riot the second we dock,” Taeseob chuckled, looking outward at the riotous crew.

 

“Oh, I imagine at least a quarter of them are going to jump ship the second the shore is a swimmable distance,” Seongwoo replied. The two snickered between themselves for a moment. Their laughter died down, and the two stood in a small bubble of silence momentarily. 

  
Excitement coursed through the air as if carried by the wind. The Captain could nearly see the sparks of enthusiasm coursing between the bodies of his crew. 

 

“Are you ready?” Taeseob asked, cutting through the quiet that had fallen between them.

 

Seongwoo nodded slowly, letting out a long breath, “I think so, yes.” Glancing over his shoulder, he beheld the beautiful island of Crescene once more. 

 

Finally, he thought, time to go home.

 

* * *

 

The sun beat down on the little island of Crescene. Its blue waters ebbed and flow steadily, twinkling beneath the harsh rays of light bathing its entirety. Worn docks jutted out both east and west of the beach, which lined the inside of the crescent. The large, black galleon known as The Onyx Vengeance had nearly completed its journey. Only the task of mooring the vessel barred its eager crew from spilling out onto the land.

 

Seongwoo took a deep breath as the Vengeance eased into stillness. Commotion erupted around him with the cheering of the crew. They worked tirelessly to hasten the docking process as much as possible, tossing rope to the dock workers and vice versa. As the Captain had predicted, nearly a dozen had jumped over the railing to swim to shore themselves. Had he not caught Guanlin by the collar, the former concubine would have gone over, too.

  
Just as madness reigned atop the Vengeance’s main deck, crew swarmed the western docks of Crescene. From the distance, Seongwoo could see those who’d been on the beach clamoring over to greet them. A few gawked while others yelled. The crew that had boldly decided to swim to shore ran to meet their mates. Loud yelling called up to the main deck, but Seongwoo couldn’t particularly discern any of it. There were vague hints of congratulation, greetings, and general riotous joy. 

 

Just beyond the docks loomed the coastal capital of Crescene. Up close, Seongwoo could make out the hilly rows of what had been housing and shops. In the distance, tall spires rose high above the skeleton of the old city - the towers of Lunis Castle.

 

The Captain’s eyes lingered on the structures for a moment’s time. Overgrowth hid the once grand wall surrounding his old home. From the bottom of the hill, one could see little more than its tallest parts, jutting out from the hill like crags from the earth. A slight numbness hollowed out a niche in Seongwoo’s heart. He was unsure of how he ought to feel. Glad to have returned home? Afraid of what condition he would find it in? Angry at what had been done to it? Part of him feared that returning in adulthood would cheapen his memory of the place.

 

Lunis Castle had felt so large to Seongwoo as a child. He had embarked on many an adventure within the stone walls; yet, he’d not once tired of the place. For every time he thought he knew all of its secrets, more nooks and crannies appeared. The child had marched across the corridors as a gladiator, magician, and soldier. Would it feel small? And how had it been left? Seongwoo wondered. What would it feel like to return to that room, the last place he’d seen his mother?

 

“Clunk!!” 

 

The Captain jumped at the sudden noise. His eyes widened, following it to see that his crew had lowered the bridge from the main deck onto the pier. Dripping crew members who’d rushed from the beach greeted their dry brethren eagerly. Crew scuttled toward the bridge so quickly, Ong feared that his galleon would tip. 

 

Before a riot ensued, Seongwoo bobbed and weaved between excited bodies until he reached the bridge. 

 

_ “Wait!” _ Seongwoo hollered. Activity halted, and all gazes turned to Captain Ong. Smiles fell, and eyes went wide. They all looked at him as if they’d been starved and he asked them to delay their meal. Ong took another step back to more clearly address his crew. Glancing across the deck, he could see the sheepish lot deflate with each second of waiting.

 

“As you know,” He started, “This colonization entails an immense amount of precision and organization for it to be successful in a timely manner. Upon settling into our roles, we must have the utmost consideration for order and consideration.” A few crew members nodded glumly while some even rolled their eyes or pouted.

 

Seongwoo smirked, “Of course… That can all wait a bit, can’t it? Enjoy this island. You have all taken part in earning this keep, and I wish to detain you no further.” He gestured to the bridge behind him. “Now, please try not to shove too much as you- oof!” No later than he’d said “no further” did his crew resume their stampede. Seongwoo practically fell into the water, fumbling to catch himself on the railing. Enthusiastic “thank you’s” and chatter of excitement rang out from the chipper crowd as they stormed onto the pier.

  
Those who had come to greet them - crew members from various parts of the Armada - did so with enthusiasm.  They leaped into one another’s arms, sharing tight embraces. People toppled over from the weight of affection. Amidst the commotion of shouted jubilations, two imposing figures advanced toward the Vengeance. They parted the tide of bodies as they approached the black vessel.

 

By the time the two approached, the main deck’s population had thinned considerably. The rush of rowdy pirates had migrated down the pier, toward the beach. While crew that had been in the lower decks still trickled up, the majority of those remaining were high ranking officers. Captain Seongwoo fortified himself, standing upright and pasting on his most stoic face. In spite of their graciousness, the presence of Admiral Boa and Father Siwon never failed to put Seongwoo on edge.

 

The Admiral and Father Siwon ascended the bridge onto the Vengeance's dark deck slowly. Whether they had done so with the deliberate intention of intimidation, or that the intimidation was merely a side-effect, Ong did not know. The Captain took a deep breath. He knew their reason for stepping aboard his ship, and it had little to do with amicable greetings.

 

As the two grew close, Captain Seongwoo gave them a courteous grin and nod, "Welcome aboard The Onyx Vengeance Admiral," He turned to the other, "Father."

 

Admiral Boa smiled as she inspected her surroundings, "It is my pleasure to see the Vengeance kept in such good shape, under capable hands, no less."

 

Seongwoo blinked sheepishly, bowing slightly as he accepted the compliment, "Th-thank you, Admiral. I simply perform my duty to the best of my ability."

 

Father Siwon chuckled, "She looks just as she did years ago. Why- The last time I'd been aboard her," He looked pointedly at Captain Ong, gesturing around his waist, "You were this tall!" He laughed boisterously. Seongwoo felt blush redden his cheeks.

 

Admiral Boa elbowed the Father in his ribs, "Now, now, Father. Captain Seongwoo is no longer a boy. He is a man," She looked him up and down, her eyes twinkling with pride, "A warrior!"

 

"There is no shame in remembering where one came from!" Father Siwon retorted. "It's astounding knowing how much of a child you were back then and..." He sighed, "And seeing the man you've become."

 

Seongwoo hadn't anticipated the sudden onslaught of complimentary, almost parental, doting. Seeing the Armada's fearsome leaders flatter him so unabashedly made his stomach churn. He still dreaded what was to come. The Captain prayed that their feelings would remain persistently glowing, even upon seeing his prisoners. 

 

Massive relief flooded him when they’d neglected to notice the ghosts of bruises he bore along his neck and chest. Regardless, a worry lingered at the back of his mind that, somehow, the Admiral would intuit that something had happened between Seongwoo and the imprisoned King. Occasionally, it struck the Captain that his nerves could be for naught. So far, Admiral Boa had been rather laudatory and supportive. Even when displeased, Admiral Boa always remained cool-headed. Yet, that frigidity inspired more fear in Seongwoo than the most boiling, explosive of rages.

 

"Alright, I believe we have shown too unabashedly our favor," The Admiral said with a laugh. "Let us move on, shall we?"

 

"Right, then," The pirate priest nodded affirmatively.

 

Admiral Boa turned to Seongwoo. An aura of poise washed over her like a wave; she stood up more straightly, clasping her hands in front of her primly. Seongwoo did not know the woman intimately, but he knew that she'd once been a noblewoman from a navy background. He supposed the mannerisms of her old court life had never quite left. That strict, severe upbringing had ultimately shaped her into a revered - and feared - pirate of all things. While the Council vehemently opposed the traditional structure of monarchy, many called her Queen Boa in their quietest of whisperings. She truly possessed a regality.

 

"Captain Seongwoo, the first thing I would like to say is thank you," Admiral Boa granted the Captain a nod, "You risked your life, and in doing so became an instrumental part of this great triumph."

 

"It was my honor," Captain Seongwoo replied, bowing in gratitude for the praise. He wondered if the sweat running down his neck was due to the bright sun or the pressure exerted by the Admiral's presence.

 

"As all present know, this is only the beginning of our mission," The Admiral said. "A most crucial part of your operation was extracting the Kang nobles. They are still aboard, as instructed?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow.

 

Right to it, Seongwoo thought. The woman wasted no time. Hands subtly fidgeting, the Captain nodded and answered as composedly as possible.

 

"Yes, Admiral. I have them secured by my Lieutenants on the gun deck, awaiting your order to disembark. If I may venture a query: have arrangements for their... Containment on land been determined?" The thought of merely transferring the prisoners from one cage to another felt slightly disingenuous. to him. He wasn't sure why. After all they had put him through, Seongwoo had always anticipated their imprisonment to be much more pleasing. Yet, the thought of it only filled him with numb dread. He supposed the defect of his plot to make them work was that, over time, they'd evolved from vague figureheads into authentic humans.

 

In his time at Castle Jeon, Seongwoo had grown close to a small few. As Captain of the Vengeance, he'd overseen the decks while the men worked. They kept their heads down and maintained fairly decent spirits. While he loathed to admit it, Seongwoo could not even say the same for himself. The moment his situation had turned dire, he'd done nothing but rebel, ultimately harming himself more than any Kang societal convention.

 

"As of right now, we've determined a temporary holding for them, yes," The Admiral replied. "However, I thought it best their long-term arrangements be determined in collaboration. There are a few ideas as to their handling for the settlement effort; however, you know these people better than anyone else. I shall trust your judgment on what best suits them in the times to come."

 

"R-right," Seongwoo swallowed nervously despite his throat's resistance to movement.

 

"I am glad we are in agreement," The Admiral spoke as if Captain Ong had had a choice. "In order to most adequately handle these potential initiates to our ranks, I must evaluate them personally. Your prudence in having them ready is appreciated."

 

"I thought it necessary as well."

 

"Now, you said the... Gun deck?"

 

"Yes, Admiral. Please, let me," Captain Ong rushed over to the hatch door that led to the decks below. He held the hatch open, letting the Admiral and Father Siwon descend before entering last. The gundeck felt immensely cooler, much to the Captain's relief. Little stripes and blocks of sunlight painted themselves on the wood beneath.

 

Suddenly, panic crashed into him like a massive wave. Seongwoo froze halfway down the steps, watching the Admiral and Father walk on in front of him. His heart lurched, and ice surged into his veins. The familiar, ill sensation of venom began seeping into his skin as he shakily descended another step. His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his coat nervously as he advanced. Low chatter between the Admiral and Father drifted into Ong's ears, and he saw the two greet his officers just a dozen paces away across the gundeck.

 

Seongwoo forced himself to look at the dethroned King. His eyes bore into the prisoner with the hope that it would desensitize him. He thought that, perhaps, the ache would dull over time. Plastering on a cool expression yet again, he approached behind the two officers.

 

The Captain took a spot next to the Admiral. He nodded to Lieutenant Yua who stood at attention alongside her cohorts Miko and Moko. Beside them stood his First Mate, Taeseob, and behind them Sungwoon. The Vengeance's crew had essentially adopted Guanlin, and Seongwoo had seen it fit to let the boy disembark at his own volition. Though he intended on informing the Admiral of the boy's origins, he didn't wish to turn him into a pariah.

 

Seongwoo peered intensely at the cannons just beyond Taesob. Though he could discern slouched figures on their knees immediately in front of him, he refused to look. He could vaguely make out their arms being shackled behind their backs, and they all sat back on their heels. Judging by the hazy outlines in his peripherals, Jihoon was the one prone in front of him. Next to him kneeled Daniel, and the Advisor next to the exiled King. Weight pressed heavily on Seongwoo's chest. He wondered if the prisoners' eyes were on him or if his paranoia had convinced him so. He dared not look. Instead, he glanced sideways at the Admiral.

 

Admiral Boa silently scrutinized the prisoners in front of her. She observed them for what felt like eons. Her serene expression betrayed not even the slightest hint as to her genuine thoughts. Father Siwon did the same, though much less dubiously. He wore a slight grin on his lips - for what reason, Ong could not discern. Thinking on it, he assumed the man saw three souls fit for saving. The thought of bringing others closer to God's light thrilled the Father like rum or gold did the typical pirate.

 

"You," The Admiral's voice cut the silence. She nodded to the person on the far left - the one in front of Seongwoo. Despite his most valiant efforts, Seongwoo's eyes followed his superior's words. He looked down at the man in front of him. The former General's head rose hesitantly, his eyes briefly meeting Seongwoo's before falling on the Admiral. The prisoner kept his lips tightly shut. Despite the General's general fortitude, Seongwoo detected the slightest glint of panic in the other's eyes. He supposed it only logical the man would fear the uncertainty of his future.

 

Admiral Boa spoke coolly, "What is your name and who were you to the Kang Kingdom?" A biting frigidity underlined her tone. Seongwoo nearly winced himself upon hearing her sharp inquiry. He watched the former military officer closely.

 

A few moments passed in silence. The young prisoner merely gave the Admiral a wide-eyed expression of trepidation. The sight of Park Jihoon reduced to such meekness shocked Seongwoo. Even as Captain, he'd hardly been able to cause the other's stubborn insolence to budge. Jihoon had expressed no hesitance or fear in his fervent opposition to Seongwoo and all he stood for. Yet, there he sat, unable to form words. It seemed as if the man finally understood his place.

 

"P-Park Jihoon," The prisoner finally croaked out. Though his eyes bore intensely into the Admiral's, they made the occasional detour to peek at the Captain's. "I am a General of the Kang military." The moment he uttered his last syllables, his pupils shot back down to the floor as if dragged by a heavy weight.

 

"Hm," Admiral Boa grunted and nodded. "A General?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Y-yes," Jihoon kept his answer short and curt. He sounded as if uttering even a single syllable felt excessive.

 

The Admiral narrowed her eyes, "Quite a high rank. I imagine that you've led quite a few missions in your time. Dangerous ones, I presume?"

 

"Yes," Jihoon replied. Seongwoo could see the sweat dripping on the man's brow.

 

"I am inclined to wonder," The Admiral crossed the short distance between herself and the prisoner. She walked around him at an agonizingly slow pace, all the while dissecting him with her gaze. Her boots clacked against the groaning planks of the floor, and the sound echoed loudly across the empty deck. With each thudding noise, Jihoon flinched ever so slightly. "How much destruction you have wrought upon the lands people once called their home."

 

Seongwoo felt a pang of worry shoot through his throat at that. He tensed, clasping his hands tightly behind his back in hopes that it would alleviate the sensation. In truth, he had not the slightest idea as to what, precisely, the Admiral planned on doing. She could slaughter them all right there, and the Captain would have no power to say anything about it. After she'd been so receptive to his reformation plan, he doubted she would go so far. Still, he felt foolish for counting out the possibility of her acting perniciously.

 

Jihoon didn't answer. His eyes had adhered themselves to the ground, and he had no apparent intention to lift them. Wise, Seongwoo thought. He remembered all too vividly what had happened when he'd refused to keep his gaze where it belonged. The mere memory caused a faint sadness to trickle down his chest and settle in his stomach. He deplored how even the slightest, most tangential instant caused his mind to stray to that place and time. To the person at the center of all of it.

 

"Yet..." Admiral Boa's tone shifted. It warmed slightly, and she stepped back, stroking her chin, "You look so... So young." She frowned. "How old are you?"

 

The prisoner looked taken aback at the inquiry; he even glanced at the Admiral despite his palpable terror and dread. His lips flapped open a few times before he managed to squeak out his response.

 

"I- I am of nineteen years," Just as quickly as they'd popped up, his pupils once again fled down toward the floor.

 

"Nineteen," The Father muttered under his breath. Displeasure hinted at the edges of the pious man's lips, and his tone betrayed disbelief.

 

"Tell me, Park Jihoon," Admiral Boa continued, "How do you want to be remembered?"

 

Silence ensued.

 

The question dropped heavily, hitting the air with a resounding hush. Seongwoo clasped his hands together even more tightly. He wondered: what was her game? Why ask such harrowing questions? The Captain wondered about the state of the prisoner's mind at that moment. Studying the other, Seongwoo swore he saw the slightest shiver run down the prisoner's spine. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the other bound men tensing as well.

 

"I-I'm sorry?" Jihoon asked for clarification, eyes wide.

 

"When you die," Boa said explicitly, "How do you want people to remember you?" Any warmth or humanity that her tone had possessed no longer remained.

 

"I..." The prisoner's mouth stayed agape. After a pregnant pause for deliberation, the former General started up again. His voice sounded no more assured than it had before. In contrast, it sounded even less confident. "When I die," His voice audibly strained to remain steady. He sounded small, smaller than Seongwoo had ever known the man to be since meeting him. The sight practically inspired pity. "I wish to be remembered as- as… A grand protector. Someone… Reliable and skilled. A person beyond title.”

 

Boa narrowed her eyes at the young man, once again closely considering his stocky presence. It appeared as if words brewed behind her eyes, but no intention of their expression made itself present. Instead, she moved on, finding the prisoner at the opposite side: Jisung. The former Advisor squirmed beneath the Admiral’s heavy gaze and kept his eyes trained on the floorboards in front of him. He jumped as she addressed him like her voice had been a clap of thunder.

 

“You,” She nodded toward the former Advisor. “Your name?” Her tone sounded clipped. The mere presence of the Kang prisoners seemed to test her patience. Father Siwon remained silent and stoic as ever.

 

“Y-Yoon Jisung,” Jisung answered quietly. Seongwoo caught the prisoner’s husband tense up from behind. 

 

“And what were you to the Kingdom?”

 

“I am- was- the, uh, Advisor to the King,” The man swallowed nervously.

 

“You are a man, are you not?” The Admiral inquired.

 

“Uh- Wh-what?”

 

“A man. You must be at least of twenty-five years…”

 

“R-right. Yes.”

 

“Hm,” The pirate admiral grunted in response. Seongwoo could discern that she intended to judge the men on their character. With her years of experience, large judgments can be made from small things. Seongwoo wished his intuition could match hers. From his perspective, her questioning only allowed for shallow impressions, but her genuine process was an enigma to Ong. He respected her experience regardless of his reservations; typically, he never questioned it. Still, his trust in her didn’t stop the hairs on the back of his neck from standing up when she leered at the man front and center: Kang Daniel.

 

“You,” Admiral Boa nodded at him. “Name.”

 

Daniel’s shoulders rose with a deep breath before he answered; he tilted his head up timidly, making eye contact with the woman looming above him. Something stirred within Seongwoo at the sight. Myriad obscurities swam beneath the dark orbs of the prisoner’s eyes; his face appeared almost serene as if he’d been sat down at a table for a negotiation. The former King met the Admiral’s eyes, his expression a facade of steady composure.

 

“I am Kang Daniel, rightful King to the Kang Nation,” He answered coolly. His head held high, one would not believe he’d been sulking in a cell for weeks.

 

Irritation, the Captain realized, was what wriggled in his gut. Spurring vexation began taking root as he watched Daniel so placidly regard the Admiral. Had he no fear? Did the gravity of the situation not dawn on him? Seongwoo averted his gaze. The sight of him caused too much toil in his chest; irritation, dread, and regret mixed and melded into a bubbling mess of feeling. All the Captain could do was keep his eyes on the floorboards.

 

“Spoken like a man of nobility,” The Admiral answered with a wry laugh. “Hm.” She grunted again, visibly discerning the man in front of her. Heaviness pressed down on Seongwoo’s chest, increasing with each passing moment. He wished badly for their little trial to conclude. His eyes felt ever so tempted to sneak another glance at the prisoner front and center.

 

“I  _ am  _ a man of nobility,” Daniel answered calmly. It struck Seongwoo again, the pang of aching pique lodging itself in his ribcage. The sensation clung to his insides as if affixed by thorns or barbs. What nerve the prisoner displayed! 

 

The Admiral, apparently much more amused than her subordinate, laughed, “Of course you are. Tell me, Kang Daniel…” She pressed her lips together as the cogs in her head turned, formulating the singular question from which she would forge her judgment. A spark ignited, showing on her face as she raised her eyebrows. 

 

“Do you harbor any great regrets from your life?” She asked. Her voice echoed across the rickety gundeck. Seongwoo’s eyes shot toward the man without his conscious consent. Unfortunately, when they fell upon the prisoner’s broad shoulders, he found himself unable to wrest his gaze from him.

 

Daniel’s mouth open but closed quickly. He swallowed visibly, but his face remained stoic. For an instant, the prisoner’s eyes fell upon his fellow countryman, the former Advisor; but, they quickly returned to the Admiral in front of them. 

 

“Do we not all have regrets in our lives?” Daniel answered glibly. Annoying, Seongwoo thought. Absolutely, positively, annoying. The contempt with which the former monarch regarded the Admiral - a woman who held his life’s fate in her hands - irked Seongwoo. Had he the place to speak, he’d have demanded some respect.

 

The Admiral, on the contrary, did not show the slightest indication of botheration; she calmly answered the prisoner’s snark, “Perhaps, but I am not asking about the lives of all of us, am I? I asked if  _ you  _ have any profound regrets, Kang Daniel.” Her tone caused a chill to run down Seongwoo’s spine. The prisoner had begun wearing on her patience.

 

“Profound…” Daniel muttered to himself, trailing off. Seongwoo attempted to pull his gaze away but didn’t succeed. Instead, his pupils alternated between looking at the prisoner’s legs folded beneath him and at his face, knit into an expression of deep thought. Heaving a sigh of defeat, the former King met the Admiral again. 

 

“I do,” The bound man answered assuredly. “While I have many small regrets… Two things pronounce themselves most prominently

 

“Only two?” Boa quirked an eyebrow, “And what is their source? What is it that a  _ King  _ with so little time on this earth could live to regret?”

 

Daniel kept his back straight and shoulders squared; his placid expression remained fixed on his features. His eyes, however, moved.

  
Seongwoo froze. 

 

They’d found one another. 

 

The Captain suddenly felt more akin to a prisoner than a person with agency. His heart pounded against his chest violently as if straining to burst out from his skin. Seongwoo focused heavily on remaining still, maintaining his own facade of solemnity and composedness. Yet, he could not deny the utter frenzy that unraveled just beneath his skin. The indignation, nerves, anxiety, and dismay tangled, seeping into his veins like poison. He stood frozen, completely powerless to seize his own gaze from the other’s.

 

“They both share the same root,” Daniel said plainly. The realization that the man could spill anything he wanted to the Admiral dawned on Seongwoo. It merely served to further fuel the ruin rampaging in his chest. The Captain clung to every syllable that left the prisoner’s mouth as if his life depended on it. In a way, Seongwoo supposed it did. What, he wondered, did Daniel have to say about regret?

 

A tiny voice, a scant whisper at the back of Seongwoo’s head, dared even ponder: Did Daniel share the same regret as Seongwoo?

 

Did Daniel regret ever falling in love?

 

The Captain felt stupid even letting such words run through his head. Of course the man did - as did Seongwoo, obviously. What sort of fool would not hold onto any regrets or grudges when they’d been so thoroughly deceived, so forthrightly used. Never mind the brief spells of heavenly bliss the two had experienced in one another’s embrace - it had all ultimately been employed to achieve a goal. Or so Daniel believed.

 

Daniel’s voice roused Seongwoo from his reflections, “I lost things. My apologies…” He hesitated slightly, “I- I lost people. I lost people I loved very much, but…” Seongwoo could see Daniel’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, “But they were both lost due to my own inaction. My own unwillingness to fight.” 

 

What? Seongwoo failed to comprehend what the other had said. Keeping a calm face proved more and more difficult with Daniel’s elaboration. Their eyes remained locked in one another, a bridge of unwavering emotion being built between them. What, precisely, they felt for one another, Seongwoo could not be sure. He’d thought things to be much neater than they’d turned out to be. 

 

“I accepted things for their most superficial qualities, never questioning their depth, never fighting for what I thought right or best. I yielded to the whims of those around me… For that reason,” Daniel’s eyes finally returned to Boa, “I lost my beloved cousin and…” His voice shrunk, and he bit his lip nervously. “And my beloved.”

 

The words came out so quietly, Seongwoo had to strain himself to hear it. Strain he did, so thoroughly engrossed in every single utterance that left the prisoner’s mouth. The Captain’s eyes fled from the other’s form. He blinked rapidly, hoping to prevent the hot tears welling up from falling. A strange sensation washed over him, dissolving the cumulative hurt and ire that had surged through his veins prior. With the feelings of annoyance, anger, and worry all flushed out of his system, all that had been left was numb wonder.

 

He felt at a loss.

  
What had Daniel meant? The prisoner had been so hellbent on destroying Seongwoo just days prior. He had been so angry. Seongwoo still remembers the sensation of the other’s hands closing around his neck, the cold look in his eyes as Seongwoo used his fleeting breaths to beg for mercy. Daniel had even made an explicit threat, a declaration of war; Seongwoo had half expected the man to cite not killing his concubine as a regret.

 

Yet, there he stood, calm and dignified, laying it out plainly: he lost his beloved. Surely, that referred to Seongwoo, did it not? The Captain wondered. Who else would he regard as his beloved? Had Daniel had a close lover before him? How had he never known of that person? And why must the mere insinuation of Daniel loving someone else more than he’d loved his concubine vex the Captain so greatly?

 

“I see,” Admiral Boa’s coolheaded tone pierced Seongwoo’s muddled thinking. Glancing over at his superior, Ong could see a glint of satisfaction on her face. Apparently, she had attained whatever obscure, intuitive knowledge she required to advance their proceedings. The Captain still could not ascertain the particulars on her goals, but he felt relieved that the questioning seemed to be over. Hearing the prisoners talked caused apprehension to roil in his gut.

 

Boa turned to Father Siwon, quirking an eyebrow, “What are your thoughts, Father? Have you any questions for our exiles?”

 

The pirate-priest shook his head, “All souls are equal under God. Tethered or not, they are all souls worth saving - should they accept his grace and endure his trials. Though, there is one present who has not had an introduction.” He pointed to the short, stockier man who stood off to the side: Sungwoon. “You’re not part of the Vengeance’s crew, are you? I don’t recognize your face, and you don’t look like a pirate. Your skin appears too soft… Too fair.” The Slate’s Captain narrowed his eyes, studying Sungwoon up and down.

 

Nerves writhed in Ong’s chest, reanimated by their questioning of the other’s presence. He’d yet to figure just how to explain his mercy toward the man. The Captain hadn’t anticipated it coming up. He’d hoped the two would write the man off as a lowly crew member. It had worked with Guanlin; however, Sungwoon was a much more unique case. Seongwoo swallowed nervously, mind working quickly to figure out what to say. Sungwoon kept his eyes trained on the ground, awaiting some sort of instruction before moving. Good, Ong thought. The man knew better than to open his mouth thoughtlessly.

 

“That,” Captain Ong said pointedly to Father Siwon, “Is another Kang exile so to speak. He came willingly.”

 

“Willingly?” The Father quirked an eyebrow at Sungwoon, “Had he seen too much?”

 

“Precisely,” Seongwoo quickly accepted the theory. Sungwoon being privy to too much information sounded even better than the slapdash explanation he’d thrown together. Ong locked eyes with Sungwoon who nodded affirmatively, and a nonverbal pact formed. “This man knew too much. It was either death or capture. He chose the latter.”

 

“I see,” Admiral Boa cut in, nodding. “And you are…?” 

 

“H-Ha Sungwoon,” Sungwoon shuffled forward slightly, stuttering out his introduction. “A mere servant in the Castle.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. Concubines served the nobles; they merely did so in a different way than the conventional maid or stable hand.

 

“He tended to the Advisor,” Seongwoo added. “That is how he witnessed our extraction.”

 

“Very well, then,” The Admiral said. A sudden warmth cast itself on her tone, and she gave Sungwoon a slight but genuine smile, “You know, others like yourself have joined our ranks.”

 

“H- Wh-what?” Sungwoon muttered confusedly. He hurriedly collected his jaw from the floor, eyes wide with puzzlement.

 

“Servants, slaves, peasants… Those that glorious Kingdoms deem unworthy of a quality life for no reason other than their birth,” The Admiral said. “Should you cooperate well, you are welcome to make Crescene your home. You must prove your worth, but we do not turn away those who’d been damned by a flawed, archaic system.”

 

Sungwoon simply looked at the Admiral, awestruck at the genuine kindness extended toward him. It had even surprised Ong, and he labored not to show it on his face. Her words had been true. The Armada had taken in a lot of strays, castaways, and peasants looking for a better life; people who’d slipped through the cracks of conventional Kang society. Still, the readiness with which Admiral Boa extended her generosity shocked the Captain.

 

“Th-Thank you,” Sungwoon answered, bowing hastily.

 

“Now, for the lot of you,” The Admiral’s voice grew bigger, and she stepped back to regard every prisoner (and the servant) as one. “You all have Captain Ong to thank for your still-beating hearts. However, that is by no means a privilege you ought to take likely. Mercy comes at a price.” She clamped her hands behind her back. “You must earn your keep and take part in our rebuilding process. Your designations have already been determined-” She nodded toward Father Siwon, “-and even our own gracious Father has generously volunteered to take one of you under his wing.” She eyed Daniel before continuing.

 

“In time, we will reconvene and consider if you have paid recompense enough for the sins of your nation. Behave, and freedom shall be your reward. Should you step out of line, you will pay consequences - and do not be so foolish as to think we’d kindly grant a swift death.” Malice subtly tinged her tone. “There are many here, on this island, who would love to see you tortured in most unspeakable ways. Do not test our patience or the good will of God, and you will never need to find out how they envision your agonizing death.”

 

Father Siwon picked up where she left off, speaking affably, “As Admiral Boa had said: you shall each be dispersed among the Captains of the Black Armada and put to work as they see fit. Of course, you will be under the watchful eye of not only God but our crew as well. Once again, let it be impressed upon you: it is in your best interest to abide by our rules, lest you tempt a harsh lesson from God.”

 

The priest’s words lingered heavily in the deserted gundeck. They hung heavily in the air for all present to contemplate. Seongwoo could see each prisoner squirm slightly in their own, unique manner. Jihoon’s fists clasped behind his back, and his jaw tightened; Ong could see the scarcely contained rage brewing beneath his eyes, but unlike his typical, spitfire self, he kept silent. Prudent, the Captain thought. Jisung turned over his shoulder to glance at Sungwoon. The two exchanged expressions of apprehension.

 

“Enough dallying,” The Admiral chirped, turning on her heel. “It is time we disembark. Father, you are to escort the prisoners to their holding.”

 

“Yes, Admiral,” Siwon accepted the order dutifully. 

 

The Lieutenants and Taeseob wordlessly obliged, following their superiors as they began their journey to the dock. Low fussing and hushed commands rang out from the throng of lower officers as they herded the prisoners. Aside from that, the bound men did not mount any sort of protest. Good, Seongwoo thought, at the very least, the men were prudent enough to know their place. 

 

“Captain Ong,” Boa said as they turned to ascend the steps, “Captains Yunho and Amber shall meet you on the pier to discuss logistics further after we escort them to their place of holding. The city’s infrastructure remains surprisingly strong.”

 

Seongwoo gave a polite smile, nodding, “Yes, the people of Crescene built with the challenges of coastal life in consideration. Though lack of maintenance has likely crumbled roofs and eroded streets, I imagine the foundation of our more fortified buildings remain intact. Worn but promising, right?”

 

“You imagine correctly,” Boa replied. “We’ve carved out a niche up the hill for members of the council. You will find a small home there waiting with bed.”

 

Ong drew back in surprise; he hadn’t expected such luxury during a time of rebuilding. Immense gratitude whelmed him, but he kept calm and steady on the exterior.

 

“Thank you, Admiral. While I obtained the deed, everyone has been so genuinely crucial to the success of this operation. It’s…” He shook his head, “It’s surreal to see it all come to fruition.”

 

The Admiral chuckled wryly, her tone warming, “Yes, well, it certainly will not compare to the place on this island you used to call home, will it?”

 

A hole sunk inside of Ong’s chest. Home. His childhood home, that was: Lunis Castle. He shook the dread from his thoughts, focusing on the positive before his thoughts could turn to despair.

 

“Lunis Castle will be restored in time. I do not need some grandiose reception or regal accommodations. A bed to fall on and a roof over my head will do just fine. Thank you, Admiral. Truly.”

 

“It is you we all ought to thank,” The Admiral said glowingly. “However, let us not get ahead of ourselves. There is still much to do before we can truly call Crescene a proper home. There are months of work ahead of us. I pray we can put roofs over everyone’s heads before first frost.”

 

“Things will be challenging, certainly, but I believe we can do it,” Captain Ong responded with a small, reassuring smile.

 

“I concur. Now, Captains Yunho and Amber ought to be somewhere down the pier…” The Admiral trailed off, glancing above the heads of milling dock workers for the two Council members. Seongwoo sighed inwardly, heart still abuzz with nervous anticipation.

 

It felt so very official: he had turned the page in his life to a fresh chapter. What it held? He did not know. He merely prayed that it turned out to be less cataclysmic than the last.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight flooded Daniel’s vision as he ascended the steps. He squinted, pain pulsing through his temples at the adjustment. The prisoner supposed he ought to get used to it: light and fresh air. Though the breeze still wreaked of sea, it still blew with a freshness, carrying the clean note of open air and greenery beyond. Freedom felt impossibly far yet within grasp at the same time. The high ranked pirates chatted in front of him, no doubt discussing his fate and the fate of the others.

 

Daniel kept his head down as he marched in the procession of prisoners. It felt odd and foreign to have steady ground beneath his feet. Though a pier hardly qualified as proper earth, the planks did not waver or shake beneath his step. For that, he felt grateful. Sneakily, he glanced sideward at Jihoon. The man had always loathed the sea; it literally sickened him. Unsurprisingly, the former General looked most relieved of all. Unlike Daniel, Jihoon’s eyes darted around with interest - almost excitedly. He appeared to drink in his surroundings; whether for tactical purposes or merely to sate curiosity, Daniel did not know. 

 

A hum of chatter wrapped around the tethered prisoners as they marched down the pier, and despite his better judgment, Daniel overheard a few of the outspilling conversations. 

 

“-isgusting pigs-” “They look rather pathetic…” “Don’t look at them too much-” “-ather handsome, isn’t he?” “-like a child-” “Some glorious King he is-” “Stop staring, they’ll notice!” “-orner him and-” “Look at the bastards. Not so high and mighty, are they?” “Did they really kill our people-” “-’d use him for a quick romp and toss him away-” “That’s it? That’s them?” “-ose bastards took my little brother away from-” “I pity whoever has to work with them-”

 

Rage pierced Daniel’s chest, climbing up his throat. They knew nothing of the life he and his comrades led. Things that had happened in the past were hardly his fault; it wasn’t as if he had any influence prior to having a crown thrust upon his head. Prior to that, he’d been another young, carefree noble - a baron who enjoyed flirtation and dancing at court engagements. He knew nothing of politics, economics, or the genuine scale of the old King’s mission. Yet there he walked, a glaring target for all the resentment and discrimination the pirates had held onto for God knew how long. All for what? A birthright, a most unfortunate circumstance that catapulted him to the top of the hierarchy, simultaneously forging a massive bullseye on his back.

 

Suddenly, something odd tickled his mind. The strange, inexplicable sensation that he was being watched dawned upon the bound prisoner.

 

Daniel blinked confusedly, following the strange feeling he got from his peripheral vision. Glancing sideways, his eyes widened at the sight of his former Advisor. Wordlessly, Jisung nodded in front of them, toward the Captain. Daniel’s brows furrowed, confused. Jisung nodded again, more emphatically, and his eyes went wide.

 

“Wh-” Daniel started muttering but halted his words immediately. Jisung looked like a madman, nodding with eyes blown wide open toward the Captain - their jailor. Had he not been immensely exhausted, Daniel would have felt tempted to chastise him. He returned Jisung’s lunatic expressions with furrowed brows, but it did nothing to deter the other. The prisoner inspected the Captain again, unsure as to what his fellow prisoner alluded to. 

 

The Captain looked ordinary, Daniel supposed. The coat he wore showed signs of rich craftsmanship; it had been constructed with a woven damask textile, adorned with silver buttons. Yet, time had clearly worn it out. It hung slightly off of the Captain’s slender frame, and the prisoner could not help wondering where the man had procured it. Clearly, it hadn’t been made for him. Aside from that, no details pronounced themselves as worth consideration. He bore the same raven hair he always had, the same, slender neck. His skin had clearly seen sun, but that did nothing to diminish the man’s plain, apparent handsomeness. He wore a scarf tied around his neck, and a silver hoop pierced one of his ears. Daniel wondered: what was he supposed to be looking at?

 

Aside from his fairly unremarkable outfit, neckwear, and earring, nothing particularly stood out. The only other adornment the man bore was a leather cuff around his wrist. Daniel blinked for a few seconds upon seeing the thing. He continued stepping in formation in hopes to keep his observation inconspicuous. Squinting at the rather muted wrist wrap, he could not shake the sense of familiarity it gave him. The former King swore that he’d seen such an accessory before. But where?

 

Daniel looks over to Jisung, wondering if that’d been what the man wanted to bring attention to. His former Advisor appeared even more unhinged than he just had minutes prior. Not only did Jisung continue nodding toward the Captain, but he also began puckering his lips. It looked crass, and had he not been restrained, Daniel would have felt tempted to smack him upside the head. He’d gotten the impression that Jisung had coped the worst of them all with their capture. His ramshackle plan had been indicative enough of his desperation.

 

Suddenly, it clicked.

 

His plan. The seduction. Daniel’s pupils shot toward the Captain again, then back to Jisung’s. Pursing his lips in displeasure, Daniel nodded in hopes of communicating: “Yes, I understand what must be done”. Still, it seemed rather frivolous a reminder given their current situation. He could hardly do anything to enrapture the man in front of him when surrounded by heavy guard. After spinning his tale about “not fighting for what he loved”, he’d felt his day’s duty of faux seduction more than adequate.

 

In truth, he did regret losing someone; his words to the gorgon they called an Admiral hadn’t been complete fiction. However, the man who’d captured him was neither lost nor a loved one. The Seongwoo Daniel had been so enamored with had been a mirage, nothing more - a skilled deceiver who’d blinded a naive King with charms and wiles. Daniel reminded himself of that constantly. 

 

Though he loathed to reflect on it, his mind occasionally strayed. In those moments when his mind drifted between sleep and wakefulness, hazy visions swam across his head; the dainty sensation of fingers ghosting over skin and lips on lips impressed themselves upon him. Soft whispers and little chuckles tickled his ears. He’d reach out, hoping to wrap an arm around something that wasn’t there. How badly the prisoner wished to succumb, but he knew better than to trust his treacherous heart. It felt bitter, being in such a state that he did not even trust his own emotions. Yet, it had become a necessity to question everything. For too long he had taken all in front of him as truth, as reality. It had taken the thorough upending of his life to realize how foolish he’d been - not just in regards to the delusory concubine, but towards everything.

 

Someone had worked with that wretched tempter, a person likely close. Yet whom? Daniel hadn’t the slightest idea. Many people had incentive to dethrone a King. Most obviously was his cousin, but Daehwi wasn’t the type. He’d always been reserved and had never handled death or violence easily; the event of Somi’s death had devastated Prince Daehwi the most of them all. There were various Dukes and Barons who stood to gain political power - people who disagreed with Daniel’s policies, nobles who could likely bend another King with money or land to do their bidding. Then there were the esteemed palace guests, Queen Bae Irene accompanied by her young brother, Prince Jinyoung. Despite extensive time spent together, Daniel still felt as if he knew nothing at all about the women. As people, the Baes appeared rather standoffish. Their nation could seek to gain from further disrupting the already delicate order of the Kang Kingdom, perhaps even overthrowing or taking coastal territory.

 

Though Daniel twisted and tossed his contemplations persistently, his fatigue addled mind could only theorize so much. Ultimately, he’d done nothing but hit dead ends, and, to his knowledge, only one person had the true answer as to what had transpired on that ruinous night. 

 

That, Daniel thought, was worth stomaching faked affection for. 

  
  
  
  



	11. A Bug and New Bars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 10 WARNING(s): N/A

“You’ve made it!” Captain Jung Yunho flashed Captain Ong a bright smile. He - along with his Lieutenants, First Mate, and prisoners - reached the end of the pier without incident. Seongwoo had feared that the prisoners’ presence would stir up a ruckus, but thankfully it hadn’t. He wondered if the Admiral or one of the Captains had made a remark prior to dissuade any particularly gnarly abuse from the crew. 

 

“That I have,” Seongwoo returned the grin with one of his own, stepping into the man’s open arms. Yunho clapped the younger man’s back a couple of times before letting him go.

 

“Afternoon,” Captain Amber greeted beside Yunho, wearing her own, distinct lopsided grin.

 

“Captain Amber, glad to see you well,” Seongwoo gave a shallow bow to address her.

 

“Same for you,” She replied before eyeing the throng of tied men behind Ong. “How’ve they been, then? Behaving?”

 

“Well enough, I suppose,” Ong answered honestly. He knew insisting they’d been meek lambs was silly and wouldn’t go unchecked by the others. “They stay in line.”

 

“Good!” Yunho said, “We needn’t tarry then, do we?”

 

“I agree,” Seongwoo nodded, “Must our logistic discussions proceed here, or…”

 

Yunho shook his head, “Before delving into your crew’s delegations, we must address the matter of them,” He nodded pointedly toward the prisoners. Ong glanced over his shoulder at the lot. The former general looked around without a word. For some reason, he gave off the impression that he was searching for something. For what, Seongwoo could not begin to guess. He had no desire or care to know regardless of the man’s motives. Yoon Jisung’s eyes alternated between the hill that rose before them and his husband who stood beside him. Seongwoo could sense some sort of nonverbal communication happening but, once again, could not scrutinize just precisely what they intended to say. Daniel stood in the middle, eyes taking long trips in every which direction, silently absorbing everything.

 

“What do you wish to discuss?” Seongwoo asked. Worry jostled his heart about in his ribcage, but he worked to ignore it.

 

“Well, the Admiral and those of us who’d docked earlier discussed the matter of the prisoners prior to your arrival.”

 

Seongwoo felt dread bubble up in his chest, “I see.”

 

“We by no means wish to compromise your decision to utilize their able bodies, do not worry about that.”

 

Oh good, Seongwoo thought, they aren’t going to kill them without consent.

 

Yunho continued, “However - under the Admiral’s advisement - we concluded that it is most prudent they be separated.”

 

Seongwoo raised his eyebrows, “Separated?” From whom, he wondered.

 

“Yes. Giving the lot space to constantly fraternize could result in conspiracy. There are dozens of building teams deployed in various parts of the city- and even further inland! As you know, each Captain manages different domains. There are only three men in captivity, so it is easy enough to delegate a prisoner to a different member of the council.”

 

“I see,” Seongwoo accepted the explanation. Though it agitated him slightly that such a decision had been made without him, he hardly had the authority to overturn his seniors. He ceded that their idea had validity. “I imagine our fellow Council members jumped at the opportunity to take one of our fine detainees under their wing,” He said facetiously.

 

Yunho chuckled, “Quite. However, we’ve already decided who is to go with whom, you needn’t worry. Once this lot is offloaded to their respective areas you can focus on more important matters.”

  
Seongwoo bit back his gut response: “this is important to me”. He nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the prisoners behind him. Surely they’d all heard what was being discussed. Ong detected a slight tension among them because of it. Jisung’s jaw had locked into an expression of displeasure, and Jihoon’s brows were furrowed. The Captain didn’t dare look at Daniel. The other’s eyes felt like dark augers, boring into his back - that disturbed the Captain enough without seeing it.

 

“Well, then, where are they to be delivered?” Seongwoo asked.

 

“The small one’s with me,” Yunho nodded toward Jihoon on the far side. The senior captain then turned to bark toward shore, “Changmin!” In the distance, Ong saw a tall, muscular man amble toward them. Even from far away, partially blinded by the relentless sun, Seongwoo swore he could detect the first mate rolling his eyes. Yunho turned back to his junior, “Changmin shall take him to his place of holding. My teams are working on building up structures and repaving down here, by the sea. That one seems well built enough, and I had caught wind of an attitude problem…”

 

Captain Ong glanced back at Jihoon again. A wide, deep frown had fixed itself across the youngest prisoner’s lips, but he (wisely) kept said lips shut. How different he was from the man who’d made it a mission to threaten a lowly concubine in Castle Jeon.

 

“Quite the mouth on that one, but for the likes of you? No issue, I’m sure.”

 

The senior Captain smirked, “I’d be very interested in seeing what he has to say.” Changmin shortly joined the Captains at the end of the pier and looked at his superior inquisitively. Yunho ordered, “Take that one-” He pointed to Jihoon, “-to the shanty brig. You know the one.”

 

“Does that one have a name?” Changmin asked. The prisoner’s pupils darted between Ong, Changmin, and Yunho, assessing the situation no doubt. 

 

“Park Jihoon,” Ong filled in the blank. 

 

“Right, then,” Changmin shrugged flippantly. “Come along, Park Jihoon.” He approached Taeseob, taking over the prisoner’s tether before leading him off. Watching someone else walk off with his prisoner felt peculiar to Ong. He couldn’t quite identify the strange sinking in his chest. 

 

It did not quite feel like sadness; however, it by no means felt like relief, either. He supposed what felt most odd was that, for months, he had lived in what’d felt like an entirely different universe. That universe - the world of Castle Jeon, the politics - it felt like one that he and he alone had resided in. Yet, now, he had to share that universe. The world and people he had known was no longer something he had sole ownership of. It was being chipped away at, broken into little pieces for others to use. These people would never know the Park Jihoon Ong did, and the Captain did not dare tell stories, either. No, they would only know Park Jihoon the prisoner, the man backed into a corner, gritting his teeth with his eyes downcast. Nobody would see the manic eyes of a man overwhelmed with possession or the murky, muddled, pathetic sight of a hopelessly drunk noble. His fellow pirates would never know precisely why, even when the man had been bound by rope, the General put Seongwoo perpetually on edge.

 

Captain Amber roused Seongwoo from his contemplations, “He,” She nodded to the former Advisor, “Is gonna be with one of the Admiral’s crews, actually.”

 

“Oh?” Seongwoo quirked a brow.

 

“They work further up the hill,” Yunho added, “Less grunt work, I s’pose. Not sure why the Admiral wanted him. She mentioned something about education…”

 

Ong looked back at Jisung who looked slightly bewildered. Behind him, Sungwoon stood a pillar of composure. Only his subtly pouted lips betrayed his vexation.

 

“Was there any mention of Sungwoon- the man that had come freely, that is?” Ong asked.

 

Yunho shook his head, “Anyone who’d come willingly is under your discretion- they’re essentially your crew by this point, are they not?”

 

“Right. Well…” Ong pursed his lips in thought. He didn’t want to separate Sungwoon and Jisung, not after what Sungwoon had sacrificed to follow his husband all the way there. “I wish to send Sungwoon to the Admiral as well. If she will have him. If not, I will happily receive him back.”

 

“Why so?” Amber asked, brow raised toward the faded red bandana wrapped around her forehead.

 

Seongwoo bit his lip nervously, leaning in and lowering his voice, “I admit that… Well… The man is tad…  _ Soft _ .” The fabricated reason wasn’t entirely off the base of truth. “My men will be doing grueling work, and I fear it will not take with him. He is, however, educated. If the Admiral is in need of educated men, he will help, I am sure of it. He’s rather organized and to my knowledge has training in accounting.”

 

“Accounting,” The lady Captain hummed with approval, “One of her crews is tasked with allocations, yes… I am sure she can find tasks that suit his skills while benefiting us. Not many pirates have intimate knowledge of bookkeeping.”

 

Captain Ong suppressed the satisfied smile that teased at his lips. Instead, he nodded in affirmation.

 

“Alright, then,” Amber barked to the men behind Captain Ong, “You, Taeseob, escort that one-” She nodded to Jisung, “-and that one-” then to Sungwoon “-up the hill. There’s a large assembly hall up there, past the church. That’s where the Admiral’s delegation crew is.”

 

“Yes, Captain,” Taeseob nodded. He left Daniel’s lead with Lieutenant Yua, beginning his walk into the city. Turning to Ong, asked his own Captain, “Shall we rendezvous after all this?”

 

“Yes, we will definitely need to… Recollect ourselves,” Ong said. Needless to say, he had not expected to hand his prisoners off like goats at the market to his peers.

 

“Of course, sir,” Taeseob nodded. He always acted so formal in front of their seniors which humored Ong. The Captain imagined that, had the others not been present, he’d have made some sort of quip by then.

 

Taeseob led Jisung and Sungwoon into the city. Something about watching his own First Mate escorting the prisoners made Ong feel more secure. Unfortunately, that feeling dissolved quickly when he realized that only one prisoner remained. Predicting the question at the forefront of Ong’s mind, Yunho elaborated without prompting.

 

“He’s the Father’s,” Yunho said bluntly. He, of course, was Daniel. Seongwoo suppressed a frown. Daniel was the King. No doubt the pirates would most insistently target him out of all the prisoners, doggedly harassing him. He’d likely receive threats regularly. Would people try to fight him? Would he fight back? Or would he resignedly take it, knowing it not prudent to resist?

 

“Right,” Seongwoo said, nodding. Worry slowly creeped up his gut, into his chest and throat. “That’s good of him.” He muttered mindlessly. Why, he lamented, had he said that?

 

“Yes, I think if anyone has the patience to work with the Kang bastard, it’s him,” Yunho said sharply.

 

Amber nodded in agreement, “He certainly wouldn’t fit in with my lot. Impressed you kept your crew from using him to decorate one of the masts.”

 

Ong let out a breathy, wry laugh, “I’m grateful to have their respect.” He bit back some other strong, pointed words, instead steadying himself with a breath. “You said he’s to be with Father Siwon?”

 

“That is correct,” Yunho replied.

 

“I’ll take him,” Captain Ong said without meaning to. The thought had, in fact, been floating around in his head, but he hadn’t intended to actually say them. He froze for a moment, shocked at the massive treachery of his very own lips. Mind moving rapidly, he searched for an adequate explanation, “I want to deliver the bastard myself.” It seemed sound enough. He plastered on an assured expression, hoping they fell for it.

 

Amber and Yunho exchanged looks. Judging by the impish grin blooming across Amber’s face, they’d believed him. Good, Seongwoo thought. He struggled to fool some, but at the very least his peers still fell for his tricks.

 

“As you should,” Amber said, “He’s your most triumphant prize, I’m sure the Father will appreciate it.”

 

“Father Siwon’s set up at the church up the hill - it’s a bit close to the castle-”

 

“Yes, I know the one,” Ong said, gazing up the steep face of the hilly city. A short few streets down from the castle walls stood a church. It’s bell tower stood tall, tall enough for one to see almost anywhere from the city if they stood in the right place. Though he’d always attended mass inside the castle’s chapel, occasionally his parents would allow him to venture out and explore at the mission. “Yua!” Seongwoo turned to bark at his Lieutenant. The petite woman nodded, handing over the prisoner’s tether dutifully.

 

Seongwoo initially avoided Daniel’s eyes, but at the edge of his sight he could discern the man’s irritation. Finding a good opening for theatrics, Ong finally acknowledged the King. Stretching a smirk across his face, Seongwoo spoke to the prisoner.

 

“Don’t give me that sour look. I merely wish to personally impress upon your building team the importance of cooperation.”

 

Daniel merely glared in response. 

 

Seongwoo didn’t wish to have any further conversation. He shrugged, turning to bid his seniors a proper goodbye. The Captain didn’t bother looking back as he started their walk up the hill. The trip would be a long one given just how high the Father’s mission was. He opted to ignore the daggers being glared into his back and pointed at his heart.

 

* * *

 

“What are you looking at?” The man dragging Jihoon groaned. Jihoon’s eyes snapped forward again. Since being dragged off of the pier, the prisoner had been staring at the beach, searching for a certain fledgeling pirate.

 

Jihoon opted not to answer. He knew it stupid to make a bad impression on his jailor so early on. At the very least, he wanted an impression of his situation before taking any risks. At first, they’d turned onto a rather shoddy street just along the shore. However, instead of going further into the city, the man had taken Jihoon toward the woods at the edge. 

 

Surprisingly, encampments had been set up. Rows upon rows of tents weaved between tall trees and jutting roots. Jihoon thought it strange given the unoccupied city a short walk away, but he supposed that homes were granted as a privilege during the rebuilding effort. A few passing pirates grumbled upon seeing Jihoon, but the former General had long been used to hearing whispered curses in his wake.

 

Jihoon wanted to memorize the layout of the wooded camp; he wanted to analyze and discern good hiding spots and where pitfalls could tangle one’s ankle. Unfortunately, he found himself often distracted. Each time he labored to concentrate on absorbing his surroundings, his mind strayed without fail. All he could think of was Guanlin, Jisung and Daniel. 

 

Not knowing where the hell his fellow countrymen were spurned the prisoner greatly. Even more frustrating was the fact that he hadn’t anticipated such a rudimentary strategy from the pirates. He supposed that he’d underestimated them greatly - a grave mistake. Of course they would separate the prisoners. As the man had said on that dock: allowing them to associate could result in conspiracy. In their case, it would. Jihoon could tell that Jisung and Daniel had cooked something up, but the three never had space to discuss it. All he knew of it was the fervent expressions of his peers as they’d been marched down the dock. Though Jihoon did not distrust the others, per se, he certainly felt wary of any plot in which he had no part in planning.

 

Due to their separation, it hardly mattered in the present. All he could do was keep his ear to the ground and pray Jisung and Daniel were fine. 

 

Daniel.

 

Just the thought of the man caused a dull pang of ire to hit the man’s chest. He’d always believed Daniel to be smart and discerning, yet he completely lacked it when it came to the concubine. When Jihoon had managed to piece together his suspicions regarding the concubine, it had been too late. He had failed his King, his best friend, and a man he had once thought of like a lover. Even so, had Daniel not rejected his suspicions? Had he not insistently guarded that concubine in spite of what it cost him in courtier regard and even sanity?

 

Thoughts twisted and turned and tangled about in Jihoon’s mind. In his excessive time in solitude, he’d done nothing but comb through his memories, tossing them about and studying them from every angle possible. Daniel had never loved him, and acknowledging that truth had hurt. However, what had hurt Jihoon more was the realization that he’d known it to be true for a time longer than he wanted to admit. He’d clung to this idea of a man who would come to love him, who would come to his senses.

 

Instead, that man fell for a poisonous snake, and ultimately landed himself and two of his closest confidants in a dire situation. For the first time in his life, Jihoon felt bitterness festering toward the man. 

 

Even so, Jihoon still agonized over his condition. Perhaps Daniel was not a sparkling white knight or his true love, but he was still a long time friend.

 

Then there was Jisung. Nondescript, hardworking Jisung. The man never asked for much, yet he still seemed to receive less than what he’d asked for. Jihoon felt most pity for him. In a way, Jisung occupied the void left by lost seniors and parents. He possessed a similarly stubborn, traditional temperament that, perhaps, their parents would have - had they been alive. The man took care of others in his own way. Though blunt and abrasive, he meant well. He, of all people, had been the least tangled up in the entire concubine melodrama. Yet he’d gotten dragged into it the same. For what? His proximity to Daniel?

 

Jihoon completely understood and took ownership of his reason for being captured. Even without his rank and history with the King, he and the bastard Captain had always despise one another. Jisung, however, had never even interacted with the man. The former General shook the thoughts from his head. Ultimately, he knew that personal affections and interactions did not factor heavily into their capture. It did, however, factor into the presence of someone else: 

 

Guanlin.

 

The one piece of the puzzle that did not quite fit, the outlier. The innocent concubine. Against all odds, Guanlin had managed to make such an impression that the Captain spared him. Jihoon could hardly blame the man. He bitterly acknowledged that the two shared that one link, love for one very winsome, enchanting boy.

 

And so, Jihoon’s thoughts once again veered toward the place they had many times before. His mind practically lived there: in the thought of Guanlin. His bright smile, his low laugh, the way his eyes scrunched. He desired so badly to be “a man”, and Jihoon regretted that he could not be the one to show him what it meant. Guanlin seemed to think growth meant sparring and cursing and drinking, and Jihoon dreaded that thought. He prayed that the young man he adored would not one day evolve into some crass pirate. The thought filled him with despair.

 

That was what kept Jihoon going most of all, the reason he kept his head down and his mouth shut. Yes, he had hope of eventual escape, but that was not certain. What was certain was that Guanlin was somewhere on that island. 

 

“In,” The man dragging Jihoon along grunted. The prisoner blinked dazedly, returning to earth from yet another tangent of thought. He glanced ahead of himself to see a small open tent. A ruddy mattress and pillow sat on the ground, and close by a massive block of iron. Jihoon obliged the order, walking in to what he assumed to be his new home.

 

The pirate secured Jihoon’s tether to the iron block with a series of complicated looking knots. Jihoon nearly regretted not specializing in naval affairs - knots looked so impressive and useful.

 

“You’ll be here for now. Crew will fetch you shortly and you’ll be put to work. We eat breakfast and dinner together at camp. You’ll be bound through the night shortly after dinner, so make sure you take a piss or do what you need prior. Any questions?”

 

Jihoon shook his head at the man, wide-eyed.

 

“Good. Didn’t feel like answering ‘em anyways,” The man shrugged, ducking out of the tent.

 

Left alone yet again, Jihoon heaved a sigh. While he’d happily stew in his thoughts for another indiscernible amount of time, his eyelids grew heavy. He cautiously stretched across the threadbare hay mattress and dozed off.

 

* * *

 

 

“As you’ve been informed, you’re to report to the Father. I presume by this time you recognize who he is?”

 

“Yes,” Daniel answered with projected deference. His mind flattened under the pressure of his and Jisung’s cobbled plan. When would he have such an opportunity next? It could be days before he could seize another chance of alone time with the bastard Captain. Yet, he could not on his life muster something captivating to say. 

 

Bodies ambled left and right, lugging lumber and sacks full of building materials. A few heads turned in the wake of the Captain and his prisoner, and some even exchanged fervent whispers. Daniel frowned, eyes falling upon the jostling chain between him and the Captain. The man hadn’t so much as bothered to glance at him once since they’d embarked along the coastal city’s dilapidated streets. 

 

For awhile, stark silence reigned between the two. Daniel’s only reminders that he hadn’t gone deaf were the distant crashing of waves and the hum of the working pirates. The prisoner internally scowled. Still, his mind failed him in providing some sort of distraction, a way to stall out their separation, anything. He wanted not to invite disdain but interest. Yet, how? He wondered.

 

Daniel followed the Captain along a zagging, uphill climb. Most of the stone steps that led up the hill had crumbled beyond use, making the climb more laborious than it would have been prior. Dismayed by his lack of inspiration, Daniel’s mind began to wander.

 

Glancing around, he could not help but wonder about the state of the place. The Kingdom had owned Crescene for years before he’d ever taken his spot on the throne. However, it had never been prioritized in his education. The physical condition of the island in the present was indicative of the Kingdom’s attitudes in seizing it: Crescene was an afterthought. It had been heedlessly smeared over in his teachings, regarded as a small strategic holding for naval advancements to come. 

 

Those naval advancements never saw actualization.

 

Daniel did not recall what the precise explanation for Crescene’s abandonment was. He knew not the lacquered explanation passed onto nobles, but the genuine one. Their ambitions continentally had been too lofty to allocate resources to a small, dormant holding at sea. Hence, the Kang military disinhibited Crescene. Though Daniel knew of Crescene’s unprosperous situation, seeing and walking among it impacted him differently.

 

Dereliction had seeped into the veins of what had no doubt been a grand, bustling city. Structures of wood and stone sat in ruin, dilapidated by the distinct brand of abuse only sea air could dole out. Holes addled the streets upon which the prisoner and the Captain walked, and rogue roots had even begun to jut out between the cobbles. A few of the less fortunate structures had even suffered severe cave-ins of the roofs and walls. The husks groaned as whistling winds ran through their guts, agonized as the merciless elements raked their claws across raw wounds once more. 

 

Occasionally, Daniel would happen upon an identifiable piece of furniture - an authentic sign of past life. Hearty hearths jutted out from piles of splintered wood - a place that had once been the center of the home, no doubt. Rusted iron poked out from piles of rubble like thorns. He wondered: just how long had the place been deserted? What damage had been incurred when they had seized the island - for surely such ruin could not have happened in less than a decade.

 

Sweat dripped down the prisoner’s back as he continued his upward journey in silence. The sun’s rays beat down relentlessly on the little rock, and it made him wonder how in the hell the Captain had managed to look so fair when he’d arrived at the Castle.

 

Daniel bit down on his lip. How could such a frivolous thought of the past bubble up in his head at such a time? He loathed to recount anything of that humiliating period of his life. The prisoner shook the thoughts from his head, pointedly focusing on the cobblestones beneath his feet instead.

 

The amount of workers had reduced significantly since they’d first begun their ascension. Daniel supposed that the pirates aimed to work their way up from the bottom - fairly logical, he noted. Beyond the coastal city was rolling hills and forest. He vaguely remembered learning of some more level terrain beyond the peaks of the coast, however that coast had always been most emphasized in his meager learnings.

 

Daniel also noticed that the further up he’d gone, the more finely constructed the buildings were - and the better their condition. Though not much could be said for the road, they began walking streets on which the majority houses appeared upright. Daniel, much to his surprise, even noticed some glass windows in perfect condition. Silhouettes stirred beyond the dirtied panes of glass, making Daniel wonder what level of privilege deigned a pirate worthy of working up the hill.

 

The prisoner wrested his eyes from the grimness of his surroundings and glanced at the Captain’s back instead. For some reason, Daniel felt the man looked more slight than before. He supposed it ought not surprise him that a Castle fed a person more than a pirate ship. Having forgone his typical, large coat, the Captain donned a billowing shirt with a loosely secured vest. The wide neckline of the tunic sagged slightly, giving just the slightest peek of the Captain’s shoulders. His skin had tanned, but he looked no less comely. 

 

Daniel took a steadying breath.

 

He’d done it again: let his mind wander. He supposed that, if his mind insisted on veering toward the man in front of him, it ought to be productive. So, once again, he directed his energy toward executing his plan. He needed to regain the man’s favor, but how? Seongwoo had been hesitant but sweet. He had wanted authenticity and fairness as opposed to infatuation or servitude. 

 

The Captain?

 

Daniel didn’t know that man. Aside from antagonizing his own prisoners and his own crew, Daniel had no idea what the man cared for. How could he hope to gain the Captain’s regard when all he knew of him came from half a dozen encounters? The prisoner continued his rumination, but a voice cut it short.

 

“We’re here,” The Captain stopped suddenly. Daniel’s footing nearly failed him, but he managed to catch himself in a stumble. The Captain still refused to turn and look at the man he’d dragged almost all the way up the hill.

 

Daniel turned to look at their destination. His eyebrows raised while his jaw dropped upon seeing the large structure.

 

They had stopped in front of a church - a rather sizeable one at that. Daniel could tell that beyond eyesight’s reach there spanned corridors and perhaps even a courtyard. For an indiscernible reason, seeing the structure in good condition flooded him with relief. It came as an assurance that even in the most grim of places, a few things remain sacred. 

 

A massive tower jutted out from the center - no doubt the focal point of the structure. Daniel imagined that there had been a bell inside judging by the hollow appearance, but it had likely fallen over time. Crosses adorned the top of the tower as well as the heavy looking doors to the place, and the massive, wooden threshold had been inset in vaulted arches.  Stained glass adorned a few of the windows, but unfortunately not all had gone undisturbed. A few had been patched with panels of plain glass or even wood to cover the holes that had likely once been beautiful. 

 

“A place of worship?” Daniel muttered. The building resembled the churches back home, but it occurred to him that he knew nothing of Crescene’s actual culture or people; it could very likely be a different set of values altogether.

 

“Father Siwon’s domain, if you will,” The Captain still refused to look at the prisoner, merely standing aside with his eyes fixed on the building. Without another word, he proceeded toward the entrance of the place. Daniel stumbled from the lack of warning, clumsily laboring to pick his pace up. With great effort, the slender Captain hoists the church’s door open, leading his prisoner in.

 

Daniel nearly gasped at the sight. The place looked pristine, almost untouched. Pews lined the chapel in neat, orderly rows atop a shining tile floor. At the end of the isle, atop a platform sat the altar, a massive slab of stone topped with gleaming relics. Behind it stood large columns on each side; however, the centerpiece of it all had been almost entirely obscured in hung canvas. One of the corners of the hanging textile sagged, revealing a tiny flash of decrepit looking wall.

 

“The chapel’s restoration is still in progress,” The Captain elaborated, as if sensing the prisoner’s discernment of the space. “There used to be a beautiful painting there, framed in vaulted arches, but… Well, it’s not of consequence. The Father has made this place his utmost priority, and I believe he will task you with maintaining it in the meanwhile.”

  
Daniel simply looked at the Captain mutedly. He did not know if the man expected a response and feared being chastised for giving one. Certainly whatever words of consolation or acquiescence he offered would be twisted. Another dire escalation like the two had experienced in the lower decks could completely oust any hope the Kang people had.

 

“Come with me,” The Captain instructed. Daniel followed obediently - his chains assured he had no choice, regardless. The Captain led Daniel into a door to the side of the chapel. As the prisoner had suspected, the grounds of the holy place extended far beyond the stone face that lined the street. Long breezeways framed an overgrown courtyard, and along its doors led to myriad other hidden places. Daniel wished he could explore. He wondered what the place had been used for? Had it been a place of study? Were people taught there? It looked like the sort of place that - in it’s peak of use - had seen very much bustling activity. 

 

Seeing it empty felt almost eerie to the prisoner.

 

The Captain led the other to a room at the end of the outdoor corridor, fishing out a worn key to unlock it. Creaks and groans of protest croaked out of the door’s joints as the two walked in. Daniel frowned upon walking into what he assumed to be his housing for the near future. The room they’d entered appeared to be a repurposed store shed of sorts. Wooden shelves lined one wall while the opposite bore hooks that had more likely than not been used to hang tools. A threadbare hay mattress sat on the floor, and on top of it sat a thin blanket and small pillow. The little window opposite the door had been outfitted with bars; they looked new given their distinct lack of rust.

 

“My cell?” Daniel dared ask, quirking an eyebrow at the Captain.

 

“It doesn’t have to be - if you stay in line,” The Captain responded bluntly. He still didn’t look the prisoner in the eye.

 

Daniel glanced at the wall. He made out no sort of chain or lock mechanism, for which he felt grateful. At the very least he would not be confined to a small distance from the wall. It wasn’t as if the room had much space regardless. Even in midday, the converted closet felt dark, the blocks of light leaking in through the window scant.

 

The prisoner glanced at the Captain again.

 

They had reached their destination. Aside from locking him up, the Captain had little else to do and even less incentive to dawdle. A heavy, thick tension began fogging the air between them, and Daniel feared that his opportunity to employ  _ some _ sort of tactic was running out rapidly. He wondered: ought he ask a question? Say something? What can one say to their jailor - the bastard who had stomped on their heart and ruined their life?

No, Daniel thought, words would not do. The two had said what needed to be said. Had he been speaking to Seongwoo, he would have known what to say. That man, he had come to understand. They shared in banter and witticisms and even flirtation. The Captain? He and Daniel had only exchanged venom. What the two had done together could only be described as violent and primal. 

  
Then, something clicked.

 

Physical contact.

  
That had been what the two had shared. In spite of the enigma surrounding the Captain, Daniel knew for certain that they had, somehow, connected on that most base level of humanity. Dire, urgent, carnal need. A desire for flesh. Daniel by no means thought it prudent to take the man brutally right then and there. He wracked his brain for ideas, some way to reach out to the man, to stoke what meager embers stubbornly smoldered between them.

 

“W-well,” The Captain coughed awkwardly, his pupils darting around. He shifted his weight from foot to foot; he almost appeared hesitant to leave. For what reason, Daniel could not know. “You are to remain here until you are summoned. I do not know for certain what he will ask of you… Once again, I believe it most prudent that you act in line, lest you want your head to decorate the shore on a pike.”

 

Daniel narrowed his eyes, riskily prodding the other, “Would it not give you pleasure to see me in such a state? It shocks me that I have lived up to this point.” He tried not to sound as piqued as he felt, aiming for a more inquisitive tone - grateful, even.

 

The Captain pressed his lips into a thin line, “My pleasure has nothing to do with it.” The hostility bubbling up between them grew so palpable that it caused a buzz to hum in Daniel’s ears. His heart lurched slightly, but he held steadfast, determined to keep the other rooted to his spot if only for a few moments more.

 

“What, if I may ask, would your pleasure be?”

 

“My-” The man seemed taken aback. He blinked a few times, his chest inflating with a deep breath. The tiny revelation had been a mere instant, something that, in the low light, could have easily been mistaken; but, Daniel knew. He’d spent enough time agonizing over those pretty features to understand when they showed worry or apprehension. Upon recollecting himself the pirate replied with a dry chuckle, “I am sure you would love to be indulged, wouldn’t you?”

 

“I- I suppose I am curious as to what your true thoughts for me are,” Daniel lied. He didn’t care. The man could hate him, love him, want to see him drowned or flogged - none of it mattered. Only one thing did: getting home and regaining the throne, ensuring the wellbeing of his loved ones. His genuine loved ones, not the faux personas he’d been duped by.

 

The Captain frowned, his expression darkening. Apparently, that had not been what the man wanted to hear. Daniel cursed internally, once again scouring the nooks and crevices of his mind to come up with something to gain the other’s favor - even if in the slightest of ways.

 

“Why?” The Captain asked clippedly.

 

“Wh- huh-”

 

“From where does this sudden concern over my regard come from?” The pirate asked again. 

 

Shit, Daniel cursed internally. He’d aroused suspicion. The prisoner had significantly overplayed his hand. Of course the Captain knew that the King despised him - Daniel had made sure to make that very clear. Why, now, would his heart change so drastically? He chastises himself for the feeble attempt at an emotional appeal. Internally panicking, the prisoner fumbled for an answer.

 

“Do not mistake my curiosity as regard or care,” Daniel answered stubbornly. “We… Spent much time together. I suppose I wonder if it had truly all been lies.”

 

The Captain let out a humorless laugh, “Ah, so, what? You hope to hear that I- I love you?” 

 

Something sounded off. Direly off. The Captain’s voice had upturned toward the end of his rhetorical into almost a croak. It was as if he’d choked upon his own syllables. Acute pain stabbed Daniel in the chest; it pierced his heart, sinking in its claws and agonizingly stretching open the still fresh wound. 

 

“I love you” - words he’d coveted. He had fantasized and dreamt of hearing such a thing from his Seongwoo. Hearing them flippantly squawked out poisoned the prisoner’s blood. The acrid sensation surged through his veins, causing him to even physically tense.

 

“Do you hate me?” Daniel wasn’t sure why he asked that, of all things. The question passed his lips before the conscious deliberation of it could occur. He supposed that it was a rational enough answer to the Captain’s disingenuous words.

 

The pirate swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple noticeably bobbing. His brows furrowed, set into an expression even more vexed than before. 

 

Lowering his voice, the Captain responded, “You made your feelings toward me  _ very _ clear. ‘I will never stop l loathing you until the day I die’ - those were  _ your _ words. You threatened me and - by extension - my people. How the hell do you  _ think _ I feel?”

 

That wasn’t an answer.

 

Daniel neglected to say so, despite it being at the forefront of his mind. He tossed around ripostes in his head. However, before he could utter anything, the Captain turned on his heel.

 

“Stay here,” The pirate barked.

 

Daniel panicked. He’d done nothing to make progress toward turning the other onto him. If anything, he’d further pushed the other away. Given how large the restoration of the island seemed to be, Daniel was not certain he would see Seongwoo any time soon. He needed to make an impression of sorts direly while he had the chance.

 

He lamented his loss of wits. He’d always been so good at flirting in court. In his youth, people had swooned over him, men and women of all ages and rank. Chasing those memories, Daniel tried to recall things that had worked on the people of court. Courtiers loved flattery - a most unsuitable response to the pirate. They had always been thrilled when Daniel gave his ear for listening; however, the Captain clearly had no interest in conversation. Quite the opposite. The other seemed to step away in slow motion, all the while Daniel grasped at every little quip, comment, or flirtation that he had used in the past. 

 

Suddenly, something sparked. Once again, their sole remaining connection flashed across his head: physical contact.

 

Words meant nothing between the two, he needed to inspire the Captain’s appetite for contact, and he had to do so in a way that would not get him killed.

 

A foot out the threshold of the cell, the Captain remarked, “You will be fetched when the Father-”

 

“Wait!” Daniel said, almost too urgently.

 

The Captain froze, turning on his heel with wide, dubious eyes, “What?”

 

Daniel’s lips flapped open and closed. He reminded himself: physical, not verbal. Repeating that mantra, he stepped forward swiftly. Moving more quickly than lightning, he engaged in a little trick he and his cohorts had used dozens of times in court. It was a miniscule, simple tease, yet it had always worked wonders on courtiers - some even visibly melting on the spot at the small gesture.

 

Before the Captain could react, Daniel reached toward the man’s head. Gingerly, as if handling something immensely delicate, he grazed his fingers against the Captain’s forehead. The prisoner made sure not to let his eyes get tangled in the pirate’s. He kept his gaze dutifully on the man’s hairline, instead. In his peripheral vision, he swore he caught the other’s lips falling open ever so slightly.

 

Daintily, Daniel swept a stray lock of hair off of the man’s forehead, tucking back toward his ear. With the conclusion of that simple, meager gesture, he withdrew his hand and finally considered the man before him.

 

The Captain looked stunned, dazed almost. His appearance affected Daniel more than he had anticipated. Something stirred inside the King’s gut sickeningly. He stamped it down, wresting his gaze from the other’s lidded eyes and parted lips. Surely, Daniel thought, the flush across his jailor’s cheeks was a trick of the light. 

 

Daniel’s eyes widened in a veneer of flustered shock, “S-sorry,” He faux stuttered, even swallowing to emphasize his nervousness. “There was a bug in your hair.” He fixed his eyes meekly on the ground, backing up and crossing his arms.

 

A wall of silence materialized between the two. It caused more anxiety to creep into Daniel’s chest, tightening it. He wondered if he had - in actuality - direly jeopardized himself. With each passing moment of quiet, his worry swelled more and more in his chest. He began contemplating the possibilities of what was to come. Would he be punched? Smacked? Should he take it or fight back? Would the Captain drag him out by his hair and have him executed publicly?

 

“Right,” The Captain muttered after what felt like an hour of suffocating nothingness.

 

Despite his better sense, Daniel snuck a look at the man. The Captain had remained planted in the same spot, arms limply hanging at his sides, eyes wide and mouth stretched out into a thin line.

 

“V-Very well then,” The pirate said all of a sudden. “As I said, you will be fetched when you are wanted.” His words were rushed. The prisoner hardly had time to think before he heard the heavy wooden door shut behind the Captain with a loud slam. A series of metallic clinks and thuds followed the door’s closing - the lock being fixed on, no doubt.

 

Confusion kept Daniel firmly in place for the minutes that followed. He did not feel completely safe, not even after minutes had passed. The lingering fear that the Captain would come bursting in to retaliate hung ever present at the forefront of his mind. Yet, as the seconds ticked onto minutes, and the minutes neared a quarter hour, nothing happened.

 

Not the sound of footsteps passing by or even the chirping of birds leaked in through the cracks of the door or the little window. Nothing. Resigned to spending at least the next few minutes in solitude, Daniel heaved a sigh, plopping down onto the mattress below.

 

He reflected on his little interaction with the Captain, dissecting every minute detail. Whether good or bad, one thing Daniel felt certain of: the Captain had been affected. He had taken pause, appeared ruffled, even. The simple flirtation tactic was one he’d done nearly a hundred times before on the dames and dandies of court. To think that such a thing even caused pirate captains to crumble mystified Daniel. 

 

For the first time in a long time, something had gone right for the King. He felt grateful for that and considered that, perhaps, his dwelling in the church rather fitting - for he had clearly been blessed with good luck. The Captain had needs, and if Daniel could fill those needs (or at least convince the Captain he could), then his distraction could work.

 

Blessed be, he thought. 

 

* * *

 

Footsteps echoed loudly in the half-finished chapel atop the hill. Seongwoo merely clenched his hands together more tightly, knitting his brows even further together. His knees had begun to grow sore from kneeling at the steps of the altar, but he cared little. 

 

In a time that felt long ago, he’d been raised a devout child. However, when his life had taken a calamitous turn, his faith dwindled. Still, in spite of his wavering conviction, he had always found comfort in prayer. Regardless of what set of beliefs one chose to abide, they all seemed to share in the practice of pleading with their deities in the most toilsome of times. When he felt most desperately powerless, Seongwoo could think of no other way to cope.

 

“Captain Ong,” Father Siwon’s voice bounced loudly off of the vaulted ceilings of the half-restored chapel. “My utmost apologies for interrupting your prayers- it is a most pleasant surprise to see you here.”

 

Seongwoo’s hands fell onto his lap, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the older man, “It is I who ought to apologize, barging in like this. Overstaying my welcome when your crew must work in here soon.”

 

“There is no such thing as barging into a place of worship,” The Father responded kindly, a warm smile across his face, “And one cannot overstay. You were clearly quite immersed in a conversation with God.”

 

“I- I suppose you could say that, yes,” Seongwoo replied. He’d practically bolted to the chapel after locking the prisoner’s door and had been there since. If he had to guess, he’d been on his knees for half an hour. “Though it feels a tad one-sided,” He attempted a quip.

 

The pirate priest chuckled, “They often do. Keep faith, and you will be rewarded. Things may seem grim, but everything unfolds according to plan.”

 

“Of course,” Seongwoo flashed the man a genial smile. He hoped the man did not intend to preach an entire sermon to him; he lacked the patience to sit through such a thing at the time.

 

“Carry on, then,” Father Siwon said with a nod, “I’ve a meeting with some of my crew, then I must brief our prisoner. If you are in need of anything, my study is the last door on the right - off of the east breezeway.”

 

“Thank you, Father. I musn’t be here too much longer, but I shall keep it in mind.”

 

“Please, do,” With those parting words, the priest departed out a door to the right side of the room - toward his study, presumably.

 

Seongwoo’s shoulders sagged with relief when the door closed in the man’s wake. He heaved a deep sigh which echoed loudly in the once again empty space. Fluttering his eyes shut again, the pirate silently traced memorized incantations mentally. He recanted the words mindlessly - as he had for the past thirty or so minutes. Familiarity, comfort, and distraction - all boons of engaging in prayer. He knew it a rather pathetic and dubious motive for praying, but he clung to the words nonetheless.

 

It was all he could do to keep the prisoner out of his mind. Even with his great effort, the man still managed to sneak his way in. Seongwoo’s thoughts would trail off or lag, leaving room for the other to slip in. One second, the Captain would be in prayer, the next, he would see a hand reaching out toward him. 

 

Just the thought of him caused a shiver to run down his spine. The intense, visceral reaction to such slight touch provided a most dismal reminder that he was still very much in love with Daniel. Still, Seongwoo began to question: did the other still harbor feelings, too? After all, for what other reason would he use such gentleness, such care to do something so simple as brushing hair out of his face? 

 

He felt ashamed. Ashamed for entertaining such fantastical notions and ashamed for being unable to maintain composure. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Seongwoo replayed the memory of Daniel’s threat in his head. The man had told him: “you broke my heart, and I hate you for it” he’d said, “ if I should ever get off that hellish rock you intend to inhabit, you will pay the most dire of consequences”. He had made it very clear how he felt about the Captain. Daniel feared bugs, surely the sight of one would irk him. There was no more behind his compulsive action - Seongwoo told himself that again and again. 

 

Never mind the tingling trail of flame left behind, he urged himself. Never mind the overwhelming desire to close that gap or to relish in that tenderness. 

 

Never mind it all. 

 

Seongwoo frowned. He knew he ought to get back to shore and hammer out more logistics with Yunho and Amber. They’d barely gotten started. However, he felt unready. How could he go down the hill and address them when his thoughts were filled to the brim with a certain prisoner? No, Ong told himself. Not yet.

 

He folded his hands once again and bowed his head. To anyone that would listen he prayed. He hoped that the insistent orisons would drown out the whispers in the back of his head; for they tempted him with sweet, lilting songs of coveted affections. 

 

In his insistent begging, he hardly noticed the single tear dropping down his cheek.

 

* * *

 

Eunji’s shoes clacked against the marble tile loudly as she paced back and forth. Ever since sending off the Baron’s messenger, she’d done a lot of pacing. She felt so incredibly powerless, it was all she could do.

 

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice interrupted Eunji’s ardent pacing, causing her to hop back with surprise. Eyes wide, the maid regarded a young man in front of her, likely of nineteen or twenty years. He looked familiar, and after studying him for a second, she realized why.

 

“Y-yes, sir?” She straightened up her posture, curtseying to the court dancer - a Woojin, if she recalled. “How can I be of help?”

 

“You dropped this,” The young gentleman said, presenting a tiny trinket atop his palm: a black pearl earring.

 

“A-ah! Oh my- wh- Thank you!” She took the little thing from his extended hand, clasping onto hit tightly. It must have fallen from the letter in her bustier.

 

“Quite a pretty little thing,” Woojin said, “It would’ve been a pity for you to lose it.”

 

“Yes, yes indeed. Thank you for recovering it,” The maid replied politely. A hum began echoing down the corridor, and both dancer and maid turned toward it. The vague buzz soon sharpened into legible syllables, spoken words. People were turning the corner, and Eunji swore that one or two of the voices sounded eerily familiar.

 

“Oh my, that’s Baron Kwak’s lot isn’t it,” Woojin muttered to himself.

 

“Hm?” Panic struck the maid square in the chest, and her eyes went wide.

 

“Yes, that’s most definitely his nasally tone,” Woojin grunted. He turned to her, a smirk across his face and his voice low, “You know he’s been an absolute mess for the past few days.”

 

Eyes darting between the end of the corridor and the man in front of her, Eunji answered, “O-oh, has he? You- you know how noble folk are- are so encumbered-”

 

“Apparently he’s been stiffed by a maiden of some sort.”

 

“A maiden?” Eunji’s voice had transcended from worried to downright shrill.

 

“Some little Lady. Heard him fussing about it last night during a late performance in one of the card rooms. He fell mad for her then she vanished.”

 

“O-oh. Oh my,” Eunji said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the throng of noble people turn the corner. Their chatter ricocheted loudly across the stony corridor, ringing in the maid’s ear. She lifted her skirts, quickling dashing in the opposite direction. “W-well that is quite the story,” She said to Woojin over her shoulder, “Now, I must be off-”

 

Woojin joined her side, pacing next to her for some god forsaken reason, “Have you ever heard of her, though? A Lady Hyerim?” He asked with a quirked eyebrow. “I bet you maids know everyone, don’t you?”

 

“A-ah, yes we, um, we do tend to many people. I am sure that this Lady Hyerim is-” Eunji looked panickedly over her shoulder. The nobles had gotten closer, much to her dismay. Among them was, in fact, Baron Kwak. He wore a rather sullen expression, going back and forth with a man around his age.

 

“So you do know her?” Woojin gasped, glancing at the nobles, too. “You should tell him!”

 

“What?!” Eunji’s eyes blew wide open and she looked at the dancer as if he was a mad man.

 

“If you tell him where his Lady is, perhaps you will get a nice compensation or tip,” Woojin pointed out.

 

“I am quite alright, thank you,” Eunji said. “I- I simply meant that I do not know, specifically, this Lady Hyerim, but I have likely… Um, passed her by.” 

 

“The poor man has been rather sad since her untimely disappearance- Do you think she’s dead? What if foul play is involved?!” For some reason, the dancer sounded excited at the prospect of foul play. Eunji wondered how the hell she had received the misfortune of running into such a boisterous individual. Typically she appreciates a good bit of banter with an artisan, but the subject matter with which he’d approached greatly displeased her.

 

“I am certain the Lady is alive,” Eunji huffed, picking up her pace. She cursed the confinement on her lungs imposed by her corset. “Perhaps,” She continued, “Lady Hyerim is avoiding the Baron.”

 

“Avoiding?” Woojin’s brows furrowed as he persistently matched the maid’s fast, scuttling pace. “But why? He’s a perfectly eligible bachelor with good title and standing. He is close to Duke Hwang, too, who is the newly appointed Advisor. I imagine many women wish they had accepted his courtship presently. Surely he is destined to ascend ranks.”

 

“Well perhaps Lady Hyerim cares for more than mere title.”

 

Woojin laughed, “Psh- No noble lady overlooks title. Most don’t marry for affection, you know-”

 

“He has the face of a cuckold and is more slimy than a frog!” She cut him off indignantly.

 

The dancer stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping. Eunji did not bother stopping with him, dashing toward the nearest statue to hide behind. 

 

“You maids can be awfully savage!” He called after her, humored. Seeming indulged enough, the dancer turned on his heel, heading toward wherever he’d meant to go in the first place. Eunji heaved a sigh of relief as she reached a statue, ducking behind it. She stuck her head out to peek at the group sashaying down the corridor. A general reverberation of conversation surrounded them, and she strained her ears to pick out anything.

 

“-orget her.” “But she was most fair!” “I tell you, man, I had a good feeling about her…” “Perhaps she’s gone and her message to you got lost.” “Well, my messenger is no longer present.” “She will arrive in time. I guarantee she will come clamoring to your side when she hears about the naval proposal.” “Oh! Has that been negotiated yet?” “Duke Hwang is working closely with the King, isn’t he?” “That’s Advisor now…”

 

Eunji squinted, watching the crowd more closely. While just moments prior she’d dreaded their arrival, now she wished they could stay in front of her statue a little longer. They disappeared all too fast as she attempted to scrutinize to whom the Baron was speaking. She swore she saw the willowy form of Duke Choi but could not recognize anyone else.

 

“It’s yet to have been presented to the Baes but it will be shortly prior to nuptials!” “Ah, a noble first tour as a joint union… A splendid idea!” “Yes, we shall recollect the little crumbs we’d dropped in the sea.”

 

The maid gasped loudly.

 

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. Eunji’s hand shot to her mouth, and she cowered behind the statue, pressing her back as far against it as she could. 

 

“Did you hear that?” One of the men present asked. A few muttered in response, but Eunji could not determine what they had said. She remained frozen in place. A few more mumbles and utterances sounded out lowly in the corridor. Then, much to the maid’s relief, the footsteps resumed.

 

Eunji stayed in place for nearly ten minutes. She waited until even the ghostly echoes of voices and feet had completely disappeared, suffocated by silence. Finally, when she felt secure, she heaved a sigh, and her shoulders sagged. 

 

“Miss Eunji!” 

 

“Aah!” Eunji screamed, nearly jumping out of her skin. She huffed, angrily looking at the lower maid in front of her, Namjoo. “Namjoo, what the hell are you doing, woman?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing!” Namjoo retorted, planting her fists on her hips, “You’re sulking about and you didn’t even tell me? I thought we’d agreed to operate as a team-”

 

“Hush!” Eunji cut her off, holding up a hand, “It is not as if I had intended my work be interrupted by snooping. I merely had to… Make myself hidden is all.”

 

“Hidden?” Namjoo’s lips formed an “O” shape, and she softened her voice, “Why?”

 

Eunji frowned, deciding to elaborate, “I overheard a crowd of nobles talking. Judging by the bits I could hear… They are most certainly going to launch some sort of… Naval mission shortly after the wedding.”

 

“Naval mission?” Namjoo’s nosed scrunched, the cogs in her head clearly turning, “But why ever would they do such a thing?”

 

“Why not? They have unparalleled power - or so the Baes do. With the junction of matrimony, what is theirs will become ours. Who can oppose that sort of power?”

 

“Well… You’ve sent your message, have you not? Is there anything else we can do?”

 

Eunji huffed, “Not unless you happen to intimately know any of the King’s confidants.”

 

Namjoo opened her mouth then closed it. She raised an eyebrow, slowly studying her senior maid up and down. Eunji absolutely despised feeling scrutinized. A sickening feeling of knowing stained her mood, and she grimaced.

 

“No,” Eunji said.

 

“We do know someone,” Namjoo started to grin.

 

“No.”

 

“Who happens to be a close confidant of… The Advisor who is a close confidant of…”

 

“No.”

 

“The King.”

 

“No.”

 

“A certain smitten Baron who could-”

 

“No, no, no-”

 

“-perhaps have some sway.”

 

“No!” Eunji exclaimed, stomping her foot.

 

“Wh- But why not?” Namjoo pouted, crossing her arms, “The man is reduced to mush in your hands-”

 

“Ew.”

 

“-We can use this to our advantage!”

 

“Hush, girl!” Eunji held a finger to the other’s lips. Her brows furrowed, she carried on, “We will do no such thing. There is no we there is me, risking my life so I can play dressup and- and what? Flirt?”

 

“Miss Eunji, like it or not, we are in this together. All of us,” Namjoo said against Eunji’s pressed finger. Eunji sighed, removing her finger, and Namjoo continued, “This is not just about us, Miss Eunji. This- this could be about our entire Kingdom- about the King! The rightful one.”

 

“We are but maids lurking around in shadows. We’ve sent our message, what more can we do?”

 

“There is the Baron-”

 

“I know there is the Baron, but I cannot simply charm my way into- into strategic meetings. What will I do? Bat my eyelashes and ask him kindly to tell the Advisor not to launch some naval invasion?”

 

“Miss Eunji, forgive me for saying so, but you are thinking too… Too pointedly. Too forthrightly.”

 

“Elaborate, then,” The senior maid pursed her lips.

 

“Swaying the King’s will through connection to a mere baron is entirely too ambitious. However, we need not aim to completely change anyone’s mind. Why, all we have to do is to delay things, right? To put things off so Seongwoo or whomever can act.”

 

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

 

“Simple,” Namjoo said assuredly, “You are a woman. Use your wiles to fill that Baron’s head with ideas. Feed into his self-importance and use him as your mouthpiece. The man is clearly malleable. If you can do so much as to inflate his ego even slightly, his teetering head may be enough to hinder the mission’s progress and eventual disembarkment.”

 

Eunji’s face dawned with realization, and she nodded, “I see… We may not be able to blow the ship off it’s course… But we  _ can  _ rock it.”

 

Namjoo, smiling ear to ear, nodded, “I can see that look on your face. You’re getting ideas, aren’t you?”

 

“Namjoo… Have the girls procure me a wardrobe - stylish but not flashy,” Eunji smirked at her junior, nodding in agreement, “I believe it is time for Lady Hyerim to make her reappearance.”


	12. A New Tedium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 11 WARNING(s): N/A

“And hoist- up- up-” “Further-” “That’s good!” “Up!” “Move that over there- to the left.” “Up higher.” “Has someone seen the hammer?” “You need to move that way.” “Where are you going?” “Hold it upright- upright- yes!” “Perfect!” “And lean!”

 

Barked commands echoed along the bustling street just lining the shore of Crescene. Dozens of workers trotted and weaved about, each engaged in their own ordained tasks. The loud thudding of hammers against nails and wood against stone nearly drowned out the yelled orders given out by leaders. Listless workers found themselves pulled into other projects quickly save for those too young or unfit to aid.

 

It had been close to two weeks since Park Jihoon had been dragged onto the sandy rock called Crescene.

 

“And down!” “Clunk!”

  
With a loud sound, the massive beam of wood they’d been hoisting fell in place on the ground. Near the shoreline, Jihoon had been put in a work crew rising houses and such. They were placing the framing for a house before rising yet another. The pirates worked surprisingly well together considering they’d all been thrown together from different crews. Jihoon found the organization lacking, but he supposed his years in the military had spoiled him in some aspects. At the very least, the structure gave him room to wiggle away. For that, he felt immensely grateful.

 

“Alright! Break! Quarter hour then we move the next!” The commander overlooking them barked. Jihoon heaved a sigh of relief, wiping sweat off of his brow. He looked around, quirking an eyebrow as he searched the commotion of dispersing pirates for anyone particularly astute. Technically, he had been tasked with reporting to a superior prior to and following any sort of break of pattern in the work day. However, his supervisor of the day - some Commander Michael or Micky or some such - had proved rather spacy. In the distance, Jihoon spotted the man’s fop of hair above a few other heads, chatting up some other officer.

 

With a smirk, Jihoon skipped off, quickly incorporating himself with the crowd heading off to the beach. Those not tasked with immediate work often ran to the beach, dousing themselves in water to stay cool or playing games. Something about it felt childish to Jihoon, but not in an inherently negative way. His years of frolicking had been cut rather short - as they had been for many of his peers. Seeing people his age and even older engage in such juvenile playtime felt peculiar to him. Pirates played like children and adults at the same time. They did as they pleased as opposed to people in courts who acted in accordance to etiquette, ever conscious of their image. While it occasionally startled Jihoon, he had grown more and more used to it.

 

Jihoon whipped his head from side to side in search of one specific “pirate”.

“Jihoon!” A familiar voice hollered across the beach. Jihoon quirked an eyebrow. Squinting (partially blinded by the sun) he made out Guanlin’s long, tall figure in the distance. Not wanting to spare any time, Jihoon jogged toward the other, a grin on his face.

 

“You want another ass kicking already?” Jihoon asked. He caught the dull cutlass that had been tossed toward him effortlessly.

 

“I nicked your hair last time,” Guanlin replied smugly.

 

“And I quiver before you because of it,” Jihoon joked. Guanlin, just as eager to begin as Jihoon, took a starting stance. The seasoned one of the two nodded in approval, “Very good. You’re a fast learner.”

 

“Maybe I have a good teacher.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Or maybe I’m just that good!” Guanlin suddenly moved forward bringing his cutlass around before stabbing forward.

 

“Just that good?!” Jihoon laughed. “Perhaps you would be if you’d stop leaning and start using your feet!” He demonstrated with a steep lunge. Guanlin stepped back, feet shifting clumsily in the sand. A massive grin had been long plastered on his face, and he crossed his cutlass in front of himself to parry.

  
_“Shing!”_ The sound of metal against metal cut through the air as the two advanced. Jihoon couldn’t help but feel pleasantly riled. In such a short time, Guanlin had advanced quite nicely. Jihoon hadn’t thought he would be able to even see Guanlin. By the grace of God, they had been stationed in a similar vicinity toward the bottom of Crescene’s sloping shore. Guanlin had more privilege than the former general and had used one of his spells of free time to seek out Jihoon.

 

Initially, the prisoner had been in utter shock. He’d been bound in his tent one evening, a guard posted outside his dwelling. A few whispers had been exchanged beyond the worn canvas of his tent, then a tall, slender figure appeared. Jihoon had thought himself genuinely hallucinating, driven to madness by isolation. Yet, there he had stood, tall, dark hair mussed, baring a toothy grin. The younger man had made the impish request to take Jihoon up on his offering of sparring lessons. Jihoon thought it preposterous - no doubt the pirate people would hang him for such brazen indiscretion. Yet, Guanlin had assured him otherwise. After much goading, Jihoon’s resolve crumbled under the weight of the younger’s insistence and his own boredom. Teaching Guanlin gave Jihoon something enriching to do while he bided his time.

 

Jihoon had learned that the pirates cared less about him than he’d thought. Perhaps, he thought, the excitement and business brought on by settling had in part sated their bloodlust. He wondered if Guanlin had spoken to his peers about Jihoon - or anyone else in Castle Jeon for that matter. From his sparing glimpses, Jihoon had observed that the pirates appreciate and care for Guanlin. He wondered if that was why, in the event of him sparring with one of their own, not one blinked an eye.

 

“-in is sparring!” “Lin, wait!” “Let’s place bets!” “I’ll bet an egg on Guanlin!” “I’ve got some copper-” “-two eggs, I’ll raise you!” “What about your earing?” “I’ll bet three of my earrings.” “-ne on the prisoner!” “You daft or something? The prisoner?” “He was a military man.” “Guanlin’s got the spirit of a pirate-” “Was he?” “-e’ll come out on top for certain.” “I don’t believe it-”

 

Jihoon kept his eyes trained on his sparring partner, but the rousing attention of those surrounding them did not go unnoticed. In his peripheral vision, the prisoner noticed a small cluster of people closing in around them. They had an audience.

 

“Clang!” “Shiink!”

 

Their swords clashed again. Guanlin smartly parried, but Jihoon swiftly answered back with a forward thrust during a brief window of opportunity.

 

“Shit!” “I told you he’s good.” “Lin’s got this one, though. You’ll see.” “He’s quite fit, that one…” “Drill ‘im harder Lin!” “Quiet down! Changmin’s gonna hear!”

 

“You’ve improved,” Jihoon said. His chest swelled as he panted for air. Guanlin certainly did not make the task easy. The two had no particular structure in their sparring - it had been largely improvised depending on their circumstances. When in the woods, the two had focused primarily on footwork. Once, Guanlin had managed to snatch Jihoon away, taking him behind large boulders on the edge of shore where they had space for little more than postures. With an entire beach at their disposal, they’d taken the chance to go full out.

 

“Thanks,” Guanlin replied. The sweat dripping down his brow twinkled in the sun. It ran down the side of his face all the way to his jaw. Jihoon’s gaze followed that glistening droplet as it ventured down the other’s neck and pronounced collarbone until finally disappearing beneath the wide neckline of his shirt. Guanlin’s shoulders looked broader. Had he really grown so much? It felt like so little time had passed since Castle Jeon - yet, at the same time, it felt as if it had been years. The twisting and warping of time confounded Jihoon, so much so that he nearly took a blunt blade to the shoulder.

 

Guanlin chuckled, his eyes squinting and nose scrunching, full of laughter, “Pay attention to your surroundings! It was you who told me that first and foremost.”

 

“Thought I’d give you an opening to see how you’d react!” Jihoon threw on a roguish smirk. Perhaps he had been distracted, but his opponent did not need to be privy to that fact. He ducked to the side, shifting forward, “But you must take care-” He lunged forward, “-not every opening is a vulnerability.”

 

Guanlin, still postured forward from his previous attack, had been unready for Jihoon’s advance. The honorary pirate’s eyes went wide and he gasped. The circle of pirates surrounding them gasped as well, each eye trained carefully on the two sparring in the middle. Jihoon’s shoulders sagged with relief. Had he been distracted much longer, he may have allowed a novice to best him. Jihoon had little more than pride left in his life, and he held onto that tiny shred of dignity with as force as he could.

 

Ready to declare victory, Jihoon brought his arm around in the circular motion with which cutlasses were wielded. He slowed his blade, straightening his posture and grinning triumphantly.

 

“Shall we start from a neutral stance?” Jihoon asked the other, who’s jaw had dropped. Guanlin held his sword at the level of Jihoon’s navel - surely it’d go in had they been in battle, but Jihoon would have had the quicker reaction, slicing Guanlin’s neck before the other could ever hope to puncture him with such an ill-suited weapon. Had they been dealing in spears or even daggers, perhaps the stabbing thrust would have been the superior strategy.

 

“Don’t let him win Guanlin!” “You’ve got this!” “Told you the soldier's gonna win.” “I think he’s got something up his sleeve.” “No way Guanlin’ll be bested that easy…” “What a waste- watching this Kang pig win like this-” “Don’t give, Lin!” “Give him an ass kicking.”

 

The surly remarks wrapped around the sparring duo like the litanies of a theatrical chorus. Jihoon chuckled glibly, once again addressing his student.

 

“Ignore them. That lot may know how to fight like a common thief, but I am a soldier. In no way could you take an advantage from this position. Come now, let’s return to start- we oughtn’t waste much time-”

 

“You forgot one thing,” Guanlin’s voice lowered to a tone akin to a growl. He looked Jihoon square in the eyes, and for the first time, the prisoner detected a depth he’d never seen before. He could not identify it as darkness with certainty. Jihoon had seen darkness in a man’s eyes many times; he’d witnessed genuine darkness in many men, seen the way it poured out from their eyes, wrapping around their entire being like an infernal aura. The obscured glint in the younger man’s eyes bore no resemblance to what Jihoon had seen on his tours. Yet, something about it looked familiar. As Jihoon scrutinized the other’s expression, he felt the sharp brunt of a blade just ever so slightly brush his lower abdomen.

 

With an impossibly smug, satisfied smirk, Guanlin finished his thought, “Pirates play dirty.”

 

Before Jihoon had a chance to demand elaboration, he felt the tip of Guanlin’s cutlass dip dangerously low.

 

“Scriiiiiiiiitch- scriiiiiitch- snap!!”

 

“Oh!” “My god!” “He did it!” “I told you!” “Clever bastard!!” “That’s our Lin.” “Nice touch, there!” “I’d like to touch him.” “Knew he’d come through.” “Real adorable, that one is.” “Quite the maneuver-” “We ought to keep him like that.” “He won!” “It’s what he deserves.” “Ha!”

 

Jihoon’s jaw dropped and his eyes blew wide open. Had he the air in his lungs to do so, he surely would have gasped. Instead, he merely gaped, choking on the noise that attempted to rise from his throat. In one swift motion, Guanlin had dipped his blade beneath the fabric of Jihoon’s shirt and swiped up, completely splitting the garment in half.  The ripped shirt fell limply down Jihoon’s shoulders, drooping open on either side, completely exposing the front of his torso.

 

Boiling blood surged to Jihoon’s face, painting it with swaths of embarrassment slapped on top of pique,“What th-” Guanlin denied Jihoon the courtesy of any sort of retort, rising the blunt of his blade directly to Jihoon’s throat.

 

“Shall we return to the starting position?” Guanlin mimicked Jihoon’s words in a mocking tone. That darkness, Jihoon realized, was not the tortured shadows wrought upon the consciousness by war. That darkness was mischief, it was trickery with the slightest hint of impish perversion. It begged the question: who was the man standing before Jihoon? What had happened to the sweet, timid Guanlin from before?

 

Further stirring the swell of flustered heat brewing in Jihoon’s chest, Guanlin studied the other closely. His gaze meandered up and down Jihoon’s body at an agonizing, lackadaisical pace. Jihoon tensed, feeling a shudder shake his spine in a downward ripple. Connections failed to forge in the former general’s brain, causing him to freeze, a flustered, flummoxed mess.

 

“He’s precious, isn’t he?” “I want one just like that.” “They kept little pet slaves over in that castle- didn’t they?” “He’d make a pretty one.” “Lin got him, that’s all I care for.” “Looks like he’s had quite a shock.” “Damn good job Guanlin.”

 

Sanity returned to Jihoon as the crass remarks of the pirates trickled into his ears. Forcibly yanking his consciousness out of its state of confusion, Jihoon hastily covered himself. Cheeks still stinging, he scolded the other.

 

“Wh- Wh- You-” Despite his best effort, Jihoon failed to string together a comprehensible thought. Sharp embarrassment continued to prick at his cheeks and ears as he grasped at a retort that would not get him killed or beaten. Unfortunately, his loss further humored the onlookers, and their laughter grew raucous. Jihoon found himself caught somewhere between wanting to kill everyone and wanting to drown himself.

 

“Alright,” Guanlin finally tore his eyes away from the former general - his former Master. “You’ve all got sums to settle, haven’t you? Do it elsewhere! Changmin will catch us if we all stay put!”

 

“His point is valid.” “Not Changmin- he scares me-” “Alright…” “You owe me!” “I thought for certain it’d be the prisoner…” “-et’s go. Quick!” “-e scares me, he does. Don’t trust him one b-”

 

As quickly as they’d converged, the small crowd dispersed. Their riotous hollering dulled with distance, and soon only the lapping of waves and faint cawing of gulls filled Jihoon’s ears. Despite the intensity of the sun beating down on them, goosebumps pricked his skin. He remained tense, arms wrapped around his exposed torso.

 

Guanlin scratched the back of his head, his smug expression turning sheepish, “I- I’m sorry, m-Jihoon.” He apologized, but his lips were still upturned ever so slightly.

 

Jihoon didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? Had any other human being walking the planet done what the other had, Jihoon would have leapt forward to strangle them. However, the person who’d utterly humiliated him and attacked what shred of dignity he’d held onto was not any other human being. It had been Guanlin who’d done that. Guanlin. Jihoon’s Guanlin. One who had once been his most coveted, cherished companion; the person who captivated and drew Jihoon’s eye even when bantering among lowly pirates. He felt torn between seething rage and awed pride.

 

The prisoner rolled his eyes and huffed, “Tactics like that cannot be relied on in real combat.” He decided to say. The words rang true; one could not rely on gimmicks or shock in battle.

 

“You’re just sour that I won,” Guanlin chuckled. He began striding away, back toward the bastion of productivity that was the street. Jihoon followed in spite of his displeasure (a Kang prisoner wandering without escort roused suspicion).

 

Jihoon scowled at the other, “You managed to surprise me is all. Had I been in possession of all of my senses, such luck would never have stricken you.”

 

“If saying so reassures you,” The younger one shrugged. His lack of regard caused ire to billow in Jihoon’s chest. The prisoner started teetering more closely to the “seething rage” end of his uncertain emotions.

 

“Listen- such tricks may amuse you during a sparring session on the stand, but in battle you cannot allow yourself to be so vulnerable. You’ll be cut to pieces.”

 

“Right,” Guanlin replied. His tone turned into something clipped, vexed. Hearing it did nothing to soothe Jihoon’s already rustled feathers.

 

“Right? Guanlin, I speak seriously,” Jihoon grabbed the sleeve of the other’s shirt, yanking him so they spoke face to face. Looking the other in the eye, he impressed his point again, “You can fight however the hell you want with your swill-belly pirate company. However, if you wish to genuinely improve, you best keep your technique clean - if only so you don’t slice yourself in half out of foolishness.”

 

Guanlin scoffed, lips pouting. He looked displeased, but more than that he looked haughty. Jihoon could feel the other look down at him, and a sensation he had never anticipated experiencing washed over his body like a wave. He felt judged, scrutinized under the eye of the very person who used to worship the ground he walked on.

 

“I’ll fight how I choose,” Guanlin said bluntly.

 

“How you _choose_?” Jihoon gasped, shaking his head slightly, “You choose to ignore the- the teachings of a seasoned warrior?”

 

“You are few years older than I.”

 

“I first picked up a sword at the age of six. Pray tell me how long you have been at it?”

 

“I am learning!”

 

“You are foolish! How can you possibly hope to succeed in combat with such trickery?!”

 

“I’ve just started- a detail you have just pointed to, might I add. How am I to learn without trial?”

 

“Your deliberate disregard for propriety is not mere ‘trial’ - acclimating to such habits will endanger you in the future,” Jihoon huffed.

 

Guanlin rolled his eyes, “Apologies, I forgot you know everything-“

 

“Wh-“ The prisoner’s eyes blew wide open, “This is not a matter of ego, Guanlin.”

 

“I find that rather difficult to believe.”

 

Jihoon felt his patience wear down to a thin thread. In normal circumstances, he would have already doled out a proper beating in accompaniment with harsh words. The former general had always deplored training new troops, and Guanlin acted like the most unbearable of them.

 

Yet, Jihoon still struggled to do more than grit his teeth at the other. Frustration gripped his insides, heating his blood into a rolling boil, but he could not bear the thought of yelling or lashing out. Not again. Occasionally, guilt still crashed down on him for throwing his hands at the other. Even if their circumstances hadn’t been particularly unfair, Jihoon could not shake the ill feeling that ached his chest. Part of him still cherished Guanlin, and Jihoon was unsure as to how long the sentiment would persist. He wondered if it would ever truly depart. Would his soul one day disentangle from the other? Or would part of him always have a slight twinkle for the other?

 

“You can choose to believe what you like,” Jihoon replied resignedly. He crossed his arms even more tightly, bare skin shivering from the sea breeze. Looking down at himself, he dejectedly admitted: the move had been clever at the time. Despite his better sense, he could not help himself from muttering, “It will not absolve me of guilt should you hurt yourself one day from such imprudence…”

 

Guanlin immediately halted, causing Jihoon to roughly bump into him; the younger man’s fists clenched and he brusquely said, “It is not your duty to concern yourself with me.” He refused to look at the other, eyes fixed forward instead. Abruptly, he continued walking. “We best return you to Changmin, lest he get suspicious.”

 

Jihoon’s mouth flapped open and closed. He searched for a response, curious as to why the other had so drastically redirected the conversation. Ultimately, the prisoner supposed it was to his benefit to be set back on course. He prayed that vexing the other would not deprive him of his single chance at doing something other than construction work.

 

Aside from confinement in a guarded tent and clearing rubble, Jihoon had little to do. The one consolation he took was from the fact that he at least made use of his body. Though far from glamorous or dignified, rebuilding a city worked the body well. Bones he had never quite noticed had pronounced themselves on his silhouette, and a few of the more rounded edges of his physique had contoured into harsh lines. Long days under the sun assured he tired enough to sleep heavily and well, and the pirates fed him a few modest portions of food a day.

 

Jihoon was alive, he was fed, and to his knowledge: so were Daniel, Jisung, and Guanlin. While few, he counted those blessings over and over again.

 

“Right,” He finally murmured back to Guanlin. Whether or not the other had listened or cared, he could not determine. It hardly mattered. Jihoon held onto the hope that he hadn’t upset Guanlin so much as to snip the one remaining thread connecting them. A consideration of apology even passed his mind, but he refrained. It felt too absurd to apologize for speaking his right mind.

 

“I’m sorry,” The words from Guanlin (who still refused to look at Jihoon) came as a shock.

 

“Wh-“

 

“Your shirt,” The fledgling pirate grunted, “Surely, there will be questions.”

 

“Wh- Oh,” Jihoon glanced down. He’d nearly forgotten somehow. Seeing his own exposed torso made him feel sheepish all over again. “Can’t be helped, I guess.”

 

“Should anyone make any remarks, I will explain,” Guanlin said, “That there had been an accident.”

 

Jihoon quirked an eyebrow, “An accident?”

 

“I doubt anyone will question it much. Just- just the higher ranked officers, I’d guess,” Guanlin scratched the back of his head. It seemed as if the impishness of his behavior had started to dawn on him. “I worry more that my peers will enjoy the sight too much.”

 

The prisoner halted that time. He froze almost as if hitting an invisible wall. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would have to work, half naked, surrounded by pirates. The thought of it made a fresh wave of embarrassed heat cascade down his body. Had that layer of humiliation been intended, too?

 

Guanlin glanced over his shoulder, finally looking at Jihoon again. He looked the prisoner up and down before a lopsided grin crossed his face. Just as the prisoner readied himself to ask what the hell the other found so humorous, the younger man spoke up.

 

“I jest, I jest,” Guanlin said, apparently sensing Jihoon’s nerves.

 

Jihoon bit back the retort that many had, in fact, already said many things about him. Though never to his face, he’d heard the pirates’ utterances. They ranged from violent to perverted - while a few complimentary remarks managed to cut in upon occasion. It would not surprise him in the least to hear more lewd remarks.

 

Jihoon blinked confusedly. Ultimately, he did not have a response for that. He simply followed, wordless, as the other led him in the general direction of commotion along the shoreline street. Seconds passed, stretching out into minutes - all without a word between them. Guanlin strode along idly, long strides keeping him one step ahead of the prisoner at all times. All the prisoner could do was follow. He knew not how to respond to the other’s words, and it appeared that no elaboration was to be provided.

 

Jihoon knew his priorities ought to be aligned differently. He had been kept prisoner by pirates for weeks - a month, perhaps. His loved ones were also in the same situation, and he needed to get out. Yet, instead, his mind persistently tossed and turned thoughts of a certain person.

 

Guanlin puzzled him more by the day, by each session of sparring and stolen look. Jihoon wondered: had he become a puzzle, or had Guanlin always been that way? Just how much of the boy’s true nature had he shunted aside in favor of his own preference?

 

Which person did he like more?  


* * *

 

With the sun came the nobles to the gardens of Castle Jeon. They walked, ladies fervently fanning themselves as servants held parasols overhead. The men took their companions by arm, charmed smiles gracing their fair faces as they flirted. Some had picnics set out for them by servants while others merely strolled. Young children scurried about, governesses on their tails as they weaved around hedges and flowerbeds. Hushed conversations echoed across the lawn in a soft murmur. While many things were discussed, almost all had one primary topic of conversation to bite into: the upcoming nuptials.

 

People discussed all manners of the upcoming ceremony: from textiles to testimonies. Which cardinal will administer the proceedings and how many tiers the cake will be. Many Kang people pondered as to how Bae tradition will mesh with theirs. Scandalized nobles even circulated the rumor that Queen Irene - of all people - was to give away her brother. While it sounded beyond outrageous to Kang people, Yeri had come to learn that the Bae customs differed greatly from those of her own country.

 

Queen Irene certainly showcased the stark contrast well in herself. She, an unwed queen, commanded the respect and attention of her court and countrymen. Never had she wavered in being true to herself, in spite of how drastically it went against what many knew as convention. Prince Jinyoung, meek and quiet, supported her wholeheartedly, even admitting to modelling himself after his older sister. Apparently, he had not been raised with a male figure - something unheard of in a Kang upbringing. The ladies of Bae court seemed to be equally as brazen and unapologetic in their self assurance. It came as most refreshing to Yeri, who had always found her court peers a bore.

 

Being a lady in waiting had captured Yeri in a whirlwind of sorts. She had essentially been thrown into it. Thankfully, all the ladies had been gracious and welcoming. Queen Irene had her quirks, but beyond her cold exterior lied a sweet, kind soul. Yeri had learned to help dress the Queen and aid Joy in keeping her appointments. The ladies also acted as a buffer of sorts, she had learned. If Queen Irene did not feel inclined to converse with certain nobles or engage in certain activities, their duty was to assure that no such conversations or activities occurred. Yeri, being from the Kang Kingdom, also held a special role that others did not: she acted as a liaison. Whenever Kang traditions or even colloquial language confounded her majesty, Yeri informed her of it.

 

With King Daehwi’s proposal, the duties of a lady had intensified fourfold. Queen Irene had been tasked with a heft of approvals and planning for the celebration. In spite of her majesty’s advisement, the King wished to wed with haste. The ladies (and her majesty) had been running around like mad women since. For the first time since the Harvest Festival, Yeri had been given a sort of opportunity to relax.

 

“Have you ever gotten lost in these gardens?” Joy asked from beside Yeri. The two walked at the end of a procession including his majesty King Daehwi, Prince Jinyoung, Advisor-Duke Hwang, Duke Choi, a variety of other associates and, of course, Queen Irene and her company. At the very back, Joy and Yeri strode arm in arm. Toward the front, they could see King Daehwi laughing with Prince Jinyoung about something, and beside them walked Queen Irene.

 

“Yes,” Yeri admitted, laughing, “Though when I arrived it had already chilled considerably. I must admit, I do not know these gardens well.”

 

“I imagine one could spend a long time here and still be unfamiliar,” Joy replied. The procession passed plot after plot of manicured hedges and deliberately placed trees toward the edge of the yard. A few lounging nobles turned their heads to take a gander at the royals all the while.

 

“I suppose,” Yeri said with a shrug. “No matter. Our destination is at the very end, anyway.”

 

The Queen had decided to take time to unwind a bit with the blushing couple on that particular afternoon. They had, apparently, agreed on archery and a picnic for the afternoon of relaxation. Yeri thought it a strange choice, archery. She knew Queen Irene to be rather competitive, but archery struck the lady in waiting as a strange choice. Still, she knew it was hardly her place to protest. She did not mind it terribly, regardless. Archery was preferable to some other droll or barbaric sport.

 

“Is Prince Jinyoung rather practiced in archery?” Yeri asked Joy hushedly when they’d arrived at the edge of the gardens. Across a long expanse of grass stood a row of targets, each decorated with colored rings. A few servants had been waiting with bows and quivers stocked with feather-tipped arrows.

 

“Hm?” Joy replied. “Prince Jinyoung never took to it, though- Oh, look at them.” Their gazes wandered from the bullseyes toward the happy couple.

 

Prince Jinyoung’s face scrunched as he laughed. Yeri seldom saw the broody royal as happy as he looked next to King Daehwi. It warmed her heart to see, even though she knew little about the young man. King Daehwi appeared equally as smitten. Whenever the two were in the same room, they were inseparable, and his majesty always gives the Prince excessive attention. All the courtiers found it rather endearing how doting he is.

 

“Really?” Yeri tilted her head in puzzlement, “Then why on earth are we-“

 

“I believe Duke Hwang is starting,” Lady Wendy interrupted the two as she scuttled up next to them.

 

“Hm?” Yeri and Joy turned their attention to the cluster of nobles hovering by the servants. A few took the provided bows, their attendants or concubines hoisting quivers over their shoulders. Yeri glanced at Duke Hwang who had already postured himself opposite one of the targets. The ladies in waiting scurry slightly closer to the line, awaiting the first arrow.

 

“Is it not proper for one of the nobles to go first?” Yeri asked Wendy.

 

Lady Wendy shook her head, “His majesty King Daehwi is merely spectating, and the Baes have ceded to allow the Advisor this first shot.”

 

“Hm,” Yeri grunted. Another presence joined their side, this one of the tall - almost willowy - variety. He not so much as joined their side as he appeared there. The Duke spoke openly, nodding toward the Advisor.

 

“Duke Hwang - Advisor Hwang, I mean to say - is quite the shot,” Duke Choi complimented his friend warmly.

 

“Please, Minki, I implore you not flatter me so,” Duke Hwang said with a chuckle. Despite his words, he seemed fairly chuffed at the compliments given to him. A smile still on his face, he drew his arrow taut, leveling the sight with his target. “It has been quite a few years since I have done this.”

 

“Yet it still seems so effortless,” Duke Choi added.

 

The Advisor neglected to respond. Instead, he honed his focus in on the target down the yard. All went quiet momentarily as he made the last of his fine adjustments to posture and aim. The Duke took a deep breath, noticeably relaxing before the telltale sound of an arrow leaving it’s nocking sounded out.

 

_“Shink!”_

 

The arrow flew toward it’s target, hitting it just seconds later. All looked on eagerly to see if the man’s reputation (or, more properly, the one built up by Duke Choi) preceded him. The attendant by the target hadn’t moved so much as a nudge. His composure astounded Yeri.

 

After a glance at the bullseye, he announced with a shout, “Seven!” Gasps and remarks of congratulations rumbled amongst the ensemble of nobles watching on. King Daehwi and Prince Jinyoung seemed delighted. Among all of them, only Queen Irene seemed unimpressed - something that by no means surprised Yeri.

 

“Excellent shot, Master,” The Duke’s concubine applauded quietly. Duke Hwang grinned, nodding obligingly at his ward. Yeri wondered if the man had always possessed such a dour demeanor or if something had caused him unhappiness that day. Though his lips stretched out into a smile, his eyes had a far away look in them - as if he was never completely present. What, Yeri wondered, plagued the man’s mind so? Duke Hwang surely could not want for more in his life. He had money, title, good looks, and land. King Daehwi had even appointed him as the royal advisor, a sacred task that holds both prestige and power.

  
Why, then, did the man always seem like he wished to be somewhere else?

 

“Quite a hard one to follow up, eh?” Baron Kwak chimed in.

 

“Have you ever shot a bow, your majesty?” Duke Hwang asked, an eyebrow quirked. “It is a bit more difficult than it looks-”

 

“I am experienced in archery,” Queen Irene cut the Duke off coolly.

 

The man faltered slightly but maintained his calm exterior, “Y-yes, of course. I- I am unaware of your kingdom’s traditions. How very enriching it must be for the women to learn combat arts alongside the men.”

 

“All Bae royalty is trained to kill,” Irene replied curtly. The air chilled with her remark, and Yeri’s eyes widened upon hearing it.

 

As if sensing her shock, Joy tittered, whispering in Yeri’s ear, “The Queen has quite the sense of humor, doesn’t she?”

 

Yeri’s shoulders sagged with relief, and she nodded, “Unique, certainly. Rather dire to imply such things.”

 

“Imply?” Joy giggled quietly, “Oh, it is no implication. Her words ring true. It is simply her deadpan deliver that always riles me.”

 

Yeri felt unsure as to how the information ought to make her feel. Luckily, the others left little time for her to ruminate on it as Seulgi scurried up to her majesty’s side. Dark wood formed a stately curve, encrusted with gleaming silver in a whirling floral pattern. Queen Irene grabbed the bow with a hushed statement of thanks.

 

Nocking the arrow, Queen Irene took a deep breath. She straightened her spine, her shoulders sinking back slightly. Her gaze fixed on the bullseye straight ahead intensely. Slowly, she pulled the arrow taught. The sound of wood straining against sinew echoed out across the empty yard. For some reason, Yeri felt her own heartstrings tense up as Queen Irene pulled the bowstring taut. All of the Queen’s ladies watched on with bated breath. Yeri feared a mere cough or exhalation could upset the delicate bubble of concentration her majesty had gathered. Not even the woodland creatures dared rustle the grass.

 

Carefully, her majesty lifted the bow, leveling the arrowhead with her target. Her eyes looked cooled as they peered at the tiny spot of red centering the bullseye in the distance.

 

_“Shink!”_

 

Metal and wood cut the air loudly, and the arrow flew through the air. In mere seconds, the soft thud of arrow piercing the target echoed out across the yard. Eyes followed the sound, squinting to see just where the thing had hit.

 

A massive smile blossomed across Jinyoung’s face. Yeri gasped. Lady Wendy clapped in congratulations, and Duke Hwang’s face fell. Queen Irene wordlessly lowered her bow. She looked satisfied despite the fact that her face remained rather stoic.

 

“One shot is all it would take,” She remarked frigidly. Down the range stood the bullseye, pristinely pierced in the very middle.

 

“Absolutely incredible, your majesty!” Lady Seulgi managed to deliver the first verbal congratulations. Soon all accompanying followed, offering applause and muttered words of affirmation.

  
Queen Irene warmed up quickly, gradually shedding her aura of coolness. She smiled, a genuine smile with flush across her cheeks. It contrasted starkly with the woman who had stood before them all just minutes prior. Soon, gaiety restored itself among the company, and chatter broke out. Conversation happened beside Yeri - she even found herself participating in some of it, but Queen Irene’s words stuck with her.

 

The dire look of concentration on her face. Her words.

 

_“One shot is all it would take.”_

 

For some reason, of all things, it brought up thoughts of King Daniel. How greatly the Queen contrasted with him. Yeri wondered how different life would be moving forward. With the Baes arm and arm with the Kingdom, would Queen Irene carry influence in the court? Even if she did not make decisions, certainly her experience would inform them. After all, the King was a mere chick. The Baes were trained to kill, Queen Irene had said, and one shot was all it would take.

 

The question was: at whom would that shot be pointed?

 

* * *

 

Sunset cast a unique spell across the island of Crescene. Due to the facing of the shoreside cliffs, the entire pirate settlement had been cast in azure shadows. Behind the tall cliff faces and the spires of the castle glanced golden orange light. Above the traces of blazing, fiery light teased a halo of lavender and aquamarine. Work had long wound down, and lowly deck boys and other young members of the crews ran up and down the hills lighting torches.

 

From the top, it looked like a dark waterfall with twinkling stars cascading down it. The man who had formerly called himself a Royal Advisor gazed across the expanse of flickering flame stars, lost in his musings.

 

“Tired?” A voice lilted out from behind him. Jisung glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling up at the sight of his husband.

 

“Are you not? Words and numbers have started to blur. I’m certain you could show me a book right now and I’d be completely illiterate,” Jisung joked. Due to his good behavior and the better word of his husband, the prisoner had been granted rather a light sentence. He had been tasked with watching children, of all things.

 

Initially, news of the work had come to as hock. He recalled overhearing brief discussion regarding his “scholarly background” and such. However, he hadn’t anticipated being handed a dozen or so rowdy pirate children. It shocked him more that the pirates valued things such as literacy and scientific knowledge. Jisung had even admitted that he lacked in many areas, but his supervisor seemed uncaring, emphasizing reading, writing, and maths above all else. Apparently, the high Admiral wanted the future generations to possess such knowledge. Jisung had to commend her; he thought it wise to invest in education. It could result in an edge of sorts in years to come. At least, it would if the newborn nation had any hope of lasting more than the few months Jisung intended to stay on the island.

 

Much like on the ship, Jisung also had the privilege of being left to his own devices. Being called a prisoner insulted his peers, in his opinion. He thought it immensely foolish of the pirates to be so trusting of him, but thanked God in high heaven for their naivety.

 

“That does not bode well for the children learning from you,” Sungwoon replied.

 

“Well they could certainly do worse! Today I had a child writing letters and every single spelling of the word ‘the’ was simply spelled ‘th’. He, apparently, ‘thought the last bit was ‘optional’. Optional,” Jisung chuckled. He had to concede that, perhaps, in another life, he would enjoy such work.

 

“Sounds rather clever to me. Why not remove all unnecessary vowels? I shall start calling your Jisng.”

 

“What a fantastic idea. Why not abolish punctuation, too? And write everything in lowercase, too. Why- let’s just burn the lexicon, shall we?”

 

Sungwoon laughed, and his bright, effervescent smile lifted Jisung’s mood immensely. He nearly forgot about his circumstances, where life had taken him.

 

“It is your proposal,” He responded.

 

“Enough about my day of herding the children of pirates. The counting house has been alright, I take it?” Jisung turned around, nodding at the vast room the two stood in. The place looked as if it had been a tavern of sorts; however, the space had been converted into a makeshift counting house. Long, heavy tables had been outfitted with scales while books and ledgers littered the tabletops, scattered throughout.

 

According to Sungwoon, the pirates were working tirelessly to refine their allocation of resources. Over their years, they’d gathered impressive wealth. They planned on using their accumulation modestly, using it as a cushion for their early years of settlement and building upon it. At least, those were the things that Sungwoon had told Jisung.

 

“It’s rather hard to see by candlelight. It gets dark so quickly here due to the cliff facing,” Sungwoon replied.

 

“I suppose sunrise didn’t want to be outshone.”

 

“Oh, please take those words back,” Sungwoon winced at the unimpressive joke.

 

“I absolutely will not do that.”

 

“Please, consider it.”

 

“Hm,” Jisung looked up contemplatively, “No. I will not. You will have to endure it, my love.”

 

“My husband is many things. Unfortunately, witty is not one of them.”

 

“Wh- Excuse you!” Jisung feigned offense. He slung an arm over Sungwoon’s shoulder, leading him toward the door. Even with the massive heaps of work that needed to be done, early darkness made it difficult. The beads of the abacuses began to blend together in the early evening - or so Sungwoon had told Jisung. While a few remained, chattering quietly behind what had most certainly been a bar at a time, most had gone to eat or sleep. “Come, now. You need rest.”

 

Sungwoon let out a timely yawn and nodded. He huddled in closer to his husband, contentedly allowing the other to guide him out the heavy doors of the old tavern. As the two crossed the threshold, a curtain of humidity dragged over them. That was one thing Jisung had come to rather dislike: the humidity. Every moment of the sun drenched day felt impossibly sticky, almost stiflingly so. While he conceded he rather be sweating than shivering in a harsh Kang winter, the margin of preference was very, very slight. The sensation of gritty sweat and sun had settled into his skin, never quite leaving no matter how many times he dragged a wet cloth over himself. In spite of the unfavorable conditions, Sungwoon appeared to glow as always. Jisung worried for his complexion - the younger man oft grew red in exposed spots. Yet, he seemed to take all in stride so well.

 

Jisung envied that. He envied that the other could be so strong, so fortitudinous, even in the most hopeless of situations. Sungwoon always took offenses in stride and faced challenges straight on. He adapted well, and though Jisung was the older of the two, Jisung often felt as if things were the other way around. Sometimes, it caused him fear - just how strong Sungwoon could be. Jisung had everything, at least relative to the handsome commoner he’d wed many years ago. Jisung could provide everything; yet, he often felt far from the provider. Often Sungwoon had been the one comforting, encouraging, and advising. Jisung hoped that, in executing their escape, he could finally give to his beloved. He could be the one saving the other, and not the other way around.

 

“I ought to eat something first,” Sungwoon muttered. The two began their journey down the wobbly path toward encampment. The pair had been given a tent in the woods and assurance that - in spite of his marriage - Jisung would be under careful watch.

 

Jisung bit his lip nervously, looking at the ground. He sifted through his thoughts, passing different reasonings and excuses through his head. Though he greatly needed sustenance and loved spending time with his Sungwoon, he needed to do something first. Thinking fast, he unclasped the chain around his neck. He used the utmost care in slipping it down his sleeve. Jisung halted suddenly, nearly causing the two to stumble onto the ground. His hand shot to his neck, and he gasped.

 

“What is it?” Sungwoon asked, eyes wide.

 

“My- my necklace,” Jisung’s heart knocked against his chest loudly, and heat rushed to his face. Thankfully, only torches and moonlight lit their path, allowing his more telling mannerisms to be obscured. “My ring.”

 

Sungwoon squinted, leaning forward. His eyes widened, and he covered his face with his hands. A frown crossed his beautiful face, and Jisung felt guilty knowing he’d caused it.

 

“Wh- Where- where-”

 

“I- I- I had it in the counting house- Did I not?”

 

“Yes, yes, I- um- I saw it. It caught the light.”

 

“Oh, b-bother. The chain must have given from- from all the sea air. I am sure it’s just- just along the path here,” Jisung said. He swallowed heavily.

 

“Well, we can find it-”

 

“No!” Jisung cut him off brashly.

 

Sungwoon’s jaw dropped, and the expression on his face could only be described as complete bewilderment.

 

“I- I mean- No,” Jisung softened his voice, “Please. You are hungry and tired. I do not wish to burden you. I will find it along the path and join you. I promise.”

 

“Absolutely not. I will help you find it-”

 

“No,” Jisung insisted again. “If- if there are too many people looking, they may grow suspicious.”

 

“It will be quite suspicious for one of the Kang prisoners to be wandering alone, will it not? Your freedom is under stipulation that I watch you. Me.”

 

Jisung threw his hands up, “Am I your dog? Can I not do this one thing by myself?”

 

Sungwoon opened his mouth to say something, but his mouth shut quickly. Though he could barely discern the other’s features, Jisung could tell that something had soured in his husband. Unintentionally, he had riled the man - a most counterproductive consequence of his haste.

 

“Fine,” Sungwoon said clippedly, “I will see you at the encampment- however I refuse to take blame should you get in any- any scraps.” Arms crossed and brows knit, Sungwoon turned on his heel and stormed off toward the woods to the west. Jisung watched in wonder, fixed in place for the following minutes. He did not know what he had said, but it had worked. At the very least, it had been effective in accomplishing the goal of leaving him alone. The guilt and ill feelings would have to be dealt with later. Jisung knew not how much time he had - only that he had little to waste.

  
He gazed up the hill. Half a dozen streets up stood the stately steeple of the largest cathedral in the city. Jisung had heard by word of mouth that one of his cohorts had been put to work there, and he thought it time for a visit.

 

* * *

 

Jisung held a hand firmly over his face as a couple of pirates passed. He’d pressed himself between two particularly large pieces of rubble that had once been called buildings. He was almost there, almost at the cathedral. Voices trickled into the tiny sliver of space Jisung had squeezed into, and he waited until they were nothing but faint murmurs before letting out a relieved breath. The trip up the hill had been more difficult than he had anticipated. A lone prisoner could not merely traipse up the cobbled streets as if he were one of their own. While many would not recognize him, the risk of being caught was too high. It would completely sabotage his plan, and he would have explaining to do to Sungwoon. His husband certainly would not want to hear that they intended on using his friend’s emotions as leverage to get off the damn island.

 

After slinking and sulking in every shadow he could, Jisung had reached a spot just paces away from the edge of the massive church. He knew better than to prance in through the front entrance, and he had snuck around enough places of worship to know that there was always one at the back. Few seemed interested in what lurked behind the grand chapel that faced the street which benefitted Jisung greatly. He turned to glance behind him, assessing whether or not he could get behind the row of buildings through the tiny crack he’d wedged himself into. It would be a squeeze, he concluded, but he could do it. Methodically, Jisung inched further and further toward the back. He felt rock and wood press into him as he slid further. Turning his head to the side, he continued slowly all the while praying the structure would not collapse.

 

When he finally dislodged himself, he took a deep breath of relief. Things were dark, immensely so. All the torch lights lined the front of the street. From the back, only stars and dim moonlight lended him aid. Thankfully, the cathedral stood rather distinctly among the rest. Its architecture differed significantly from its neighbors. A massive wall jutted out far behind the rest - the true scale of the place exceeded expectations from the front. Jisung carefully tiptoed toward it, following the wall further back until he reached a corner. Swallowing nervously, he peeked over it.

 

Nothing.

 

Or, more correctly, no people. Low flamelight leaked out from a few windows. Whether all the lit rooms were inhabited, Jisung could not determine. He brought up the words and pieces he had gathered from eavesdropping:

 

“He’s at the back of the cathedral”: the summation of what he had heard.

 

Jisung squatted low and turn the corner - pressing himself against the wall. As quietly as possible, he stepped along the wall, listening out for any sign of life: loud breath, snoring, even conversation. So far, nothing had come from the first window. Though he wished to look, he did not dare make the wager until at least making one trip along the wall. Sluggishly, he continued on, stopping by the second and third. All the while, only the sound of brush crunching under his feet entered his ears.

 

Finally, at the fourth window, Jisung heard something. He seized up, eyes going wide and heart freezing momentarily as he heard a yawn. He scarcely heard the second, for his heartbeat pattered loudly in his chest. Still, he could not deny a very human yawn coming from the fourth window - a room in the corner of the place. Carefully, Jisung rose with intention to peer in just ever so slightly.

 

Orange light filled the room, and he practically had to squint due to the flooding of light into his vision. Blinking away the irritation, he scanned the room. All in it seemed rather unremarkable in comparison to the man leaning against the far corner.

 

“There you are,” Jisung whispered. Apparently, that had been enough to rouse the man, and he woke up with a start.

 

“Wh-” With wide eyes, Daniel flinched. He jumped onto his feet and began looking around frantically, chest heaving with sudden, panicked breaths.

 

“Hush!” Jisung stood straight up, sticking his head as far past the bars over the window as he could.

 

Daniel followed the other’s voice, eyes wide, and gasped, “Wh-” He blinked rapidly, even wiping his eyes. Slowly, the prisoner strode forward, and he reached out a hand.

 

“Hush!” Jisung whispered again, “We cannot rouse atten- Ow! What are you-”

 

“You’re real,” Daniel remarked after pinching Jisung’s nose.

 

“Of course I am!” Jisung sniffed. “Why would I not be?”

 

“You could have been a dream.”

 

“Do I show up in your dreams often, Daniel?”

 

“No, b-but-”

 

“Never mind that, we don’t have time to chat.”

 

“W-wait,” Daniel’s tone still sounded heavy, weight being dragged along due to sleepiness. “I… Wait. Please, I…” Searching for words appeared rather laborious, but eventually he found them. With a sigh, he spoke again, “I am glad to see you are alive and well, Jisung. Genuinely.”

 

Jisung nodded, “You as well. You seem… Alive, very much. Skinny, though. Please tell me they have fed you. If they have not I- I-”

 

“Do not worry, I am given meals,” Daniel reassured him. “I cannot describe my condition as ‘happy’ or ‘good’, but I am alive and okay. Safe, I suppose. For now.”

 

“Very well then.”

 

“How did you find out I was here?”

 

“Pirates are loud, boisterous, and have very loose lips.”

 

“Yes, but, are you not under constant watch?”

 

Another wave of guilt splashed over Jisung, “I… I have my husband. They trust him and- and I keep my head down. I suppose their favor for him shines a light on me.”

 

“I see. You’re very blessed then.”

 

“I am. And- and you will be, too. Soon,” Jisung said determinedly. Dallying gave him anxiety; he did not know how much longer he could excuse his absence.

 

“Will I?” Daniel asked, skeptical.

 

“Yes, you will. We will get off of this island, all of us. Right now, this place is in a state of chaos. Different crews working, running around, things being built and rebuilt, reformed and repurposed… That will not go on for long, I am certain. Soon, things will iron out and order will be restored. Their chaotic rush will become systemic. We cannot wait until that happens to leave. We must make our escape before the dust has settled.”

 

“Right.”

 

“And the Captain…”

 

“Oh- No,” Daniel crossed his arms, looking away.

 

“What?”

 

“Do not tell me you have risked your neck to pester me about- about fucking the Captain-”

 

“I wanted to see my good friend and assure his well being!” Jisung gasped, throwing his hands up. “I- I- just-”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Asking about an update on the plan happens to be a productive addition to this meeting-”

 

“You understand this man is a practiced deceiver, do you not? What am I to do? Saunter up to him? Offer my body for a hateful romp?” Daniel scoffed.

 

“Would that work?”

 

“Jisung!”

 

“What? How am I to know what that man prefers? As far as I can tell, you two already had a-“

 

“You are not helpful. At all,” Daniel cut him off clippedly.

 

“Well you must do something. I had thought I’d be closer to the docks, so I cannot overlook progress as I would have liked. Still, I will make good on my end, you must make good on yours.”

 

“Need we distract the Captain so? Surely, he is preoccupied.”

 

“I do not trust this brief period of quiet. Unless you can fully assure me he is distracted otherwise, the sight of his slinky little silhouette unsettles me.”

 

“That man will not easily be had, Jisung.”

 

“I don’t care about easy, I care about getting out of this place!” Jisung exclaimed. He clapped his hand over his mouth, clinging to the wall and scanning the area panicked lay. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice or care, and the tremor of worry in his chest dulled.

 

“We will, Jisung, but…” Daniel sighed, “It may take some time.”

 

“We do not have time. With every passing day he could be- things are- are happening. Things we do not know about.”

 

Daniel wrung a hand down his face, “As they do when we are not present.”

 

“I- I know, but- but we must make haste.”

 

“Why are you so rushed in this?”

 

“Daniel,” Jisung sighed, a frown falling on his face, “How are you so calm about this?”

 

“Calm? You think I am _calm_?” The former King’s voice raised slightly.

 

“I- I do not mean to imply it like that I just- I merely-“

 

“Why are _you_ so frantic? Is there a fire I don’t know about,” The man edged up to the window, resting his forearms on the sill.

 

“I-“ Jisung let out a large breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he’d managed to collect himself slightly, he continued, “I know I- I seem to be in a frenzy. Well- I am. This isn’t just about me, you know. Or you.” He searched for Daniel’s gaze, finding it.

 

“Tell me, then,” Daniel said, his voice more level. “What is this about?”

 

“Well, I cannot say that my reasoning is not selfish, but…” After hesitating for a few instants, Jisung admitted, “It is about my Sungwoon.”

 

“What about him? He’s adjusted well. You ought to ask him to get in with the Captain, not me.”

 

“He’s not like us, Daniel. He- he has family there.”

 

“And what of your sister?”

 

“What of her? She’s been overseas. She will probably receive the letter in a week’s time informing her of my death. She’ll mourn, of course, but I have no doubts she has many suitors on whose bosoms she could fall upon to find comfort.”

 

“And Jihoon’s the same. Abroad, right?”

 

“At the abbey to the north, I believe,” Jisung replied. It felt surreal to discuss the lives they’d left behind in such a nonchalant manner. Jisung could not begin to fathom how they felt.

 

“And what of your husband’s family. Forgive me, I- I never asked-“

 

“Please, no need to apologize. I just- I suppose I know that our families - my sister, Jihoon’s - they will be alright. I… I cannot know what fate befalls Sungwoon’s family. Nor can he. I made an oath to him, Daniel. And- and yes, of course I want to go home. To say I do not miss the- the luxuries of castle life is a lie. Do you not miss home?” Heat began stinging Jisung’s eyes, and he blinked away the tears blurring his vision.

 

“You imply my lack of mania is indicative of a lack of passion. It is not. I want to go home and right this just the same as you, but- but-”

 

“I know, I- the Captain, he-”

 

“It’s not just that, Jisung. You know this was a paid deal, right?”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Does it ever occur to you that- that we may not be welcomed with open arms?”

 

A tear fell down Jisung’s cheek, and he clammed up. While the pieces had been present in his mind - he knew there had been betrayal, he knew someone had paid the Captain to capture them - he’d never connected them. It is most likely that the person who’d orchestrated their covert exile did not wish for their return. They likely would not be welcomed back with open arms. Still, that didn't make the place from which they’d been ousted any less their home.

 

“Damn their arms. Open or not, the Kingdom is where we belong. Not here,” Jisung said stubbornly. “Do you really think that we can just- just make a home here? Start some new life? As if we hadn’t spent the first decades of our lives somewhere completely different?! And what of these people? Surely their resentment will never truly end. We will always carry the blame for what our forefathers did-”

 

“And what we continued,” Daniel added insistently.

 

“Wh-”

 

“Neither of us did anything to stop this. Maybe if we had, we wouldn’t be here. At least, if- if I had-”

 

“Daniel, what are you talking about? Do not tell me these- these bitter pirates have soiled your mind-”

 

“Do not patronize me!” Daniel exclaimed in a whisper, slamming his hands on the sill of the window.

 

Jisung’s mouth clamped shut and he watched on with wide eyes. Daniel’s shoulders slunk, and he shook his head, “A-apologies, I- I find myself rather short as of late. Tense.” He gripped at the brick aimlessly. Jisung could not help glancing down. Though unsure as to why, he noticed that the man’s nails had been ground down to near nothing. Perhaps he’d been scratching or clawing at something excessively. Was it nerves? Dread? Whatever ill emotion had caused the man to behave so erratically did not matter. It caused Jisung distress regardless.

 

“I ought to apologize,” Jisung conceded, “You are capable of thinking for yourself. I- I simply think it unfair the put the burden of this on our shoulders. On _your_ shoulders. If anything I should take the blame. I was suspicious, but- but I did not get through to you. Perhaps I had been more insistent.”

 

“No, no. Let’s-” Daniel sighed, “We must stop pulling blame onto ourselves.” He pressed his lips together, briefly looking down in thought before continuing, “You are right, we must not idle for long. Damn the arms, as you said. If they are not open and welcoming we will wrench them open ourselves. It is our place to take back, not theirs to occupy.”

 

“Yes,” Jisung nodded, wiping a few of the other tears that had fallen off of his face, “Yes, exactly.”

 

“If to get there I must be more insistent, then so be it, but you must do your part.”

 

“Of course.”

  
Daniel reached through an opening in the bars, presenting his open hand. Jisung took it in his own, and the two interlaced fingers.

 

“We will get home,” Daniel said with a sense of finality.

 

“We must find a way. You will find a way,” Jisung unclasped their hands, presenting his pinky, “Promise?”

 

Daniel looked down at the extended gesture nervously. In spite of the low light, Jisung caught his Adam’s apple bobbing. Slowly, the King hooked his own pinky with the other’s and squeezed. Looking Jisung in the eye, he nodded.

 

“Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon stretched out, yawning loudly. The lantern he’d lit had burned down to a weak, blue flicker. Sungwoon wiped the grog from his eyes, yawning as he spoke.

 

“You’re back,” He murmured sleepily.

 

“I’m sorry to have woken you,” Jisung whispered. He swallowed nervously.

 

“Not at all,” Sungwoon lifted the worn blanket they shared. Jisung kicked off his boots and shed his dirty clothes before sliding in behind the other. The two scooted and shifted until their bodies were flush, and Jisung had slunk an arm over Sungwoon’s waist. “What were you doing so long?” He asked slurredly.

 

Jisung tensed slightly, “I got caught up with- with one of the pirates. Seemed a bit drunk. Fancied a chat.”

 

Sungwoon sat up slightly, making Jisung even more nervous, “Did he give you any trouble?”

 

“N-no, not at all. Why- I’m certain he thought me his brother.”

 

Thankfully, the shorter man relaxed in front of him, once again sliding into a comfortable position, “I see. They do love a good drink, this lot.”

 

“Yes, yes they do,” Jisung affirmed. A yawn wracked itself over his entire body, and weight started dragging down his eyelids.

 

“They’re not too bad, though,” Sungwoon muttered. “Not to bad at all…”

 

“No, I- I suppose not. I mean… Not when I’ve got you around, anyway,” Jisung whispered back. Swiftly, Sungwoon turned over. He pecked Jisung on the lips and nuzzled his nose. Warmth flooded Jisung’s body, entering from his lips and surging down into his chest. He chased the other’s lips for another. In the strange, foreign place, surrounded by enemies, the kiss of his loved one was the only place in which he found solace.

 

“Stop,” Sungwoon chuckled against Jisung’s lips when his kisses persisted. “Sto- mmf.”

 

Jisung stubbornly continued. He needed that - his serenity, his one escape from everything. He clung to it until Sungwoo’s soft titters became too much. The flame in their lantern nearly died out, giving them little more than slivers of moonlight to light the tent.

 

“It’s not all that bad here, you know,” Sungwoon’s voice sounded little louder than that of a field mouse.

 

“Not bad?” Jisung’s face scrunched in confusion. “You speak quite generously.”

 

Sungwoon pouted, eyes casting downward, “Maybe so, but… We are fed and can sleep together. The people here are- are genial- rough, but genial. It is beautiful, and this place will only become more and more complete with each day that passes. Soon, it shall be a city.”

 

“What?” Jisung’s brows furrowed, “That- that may be true, but- but why are you saying such things now?”

 

“N-No reason. Don’t mind it-“

 

“No, I do. I- You- you speak as if you’ve no hope of returning home.”

 

A pause filled the space between them for an indiscriminate amount of time. Though it felt like hours, Jisung felt certain it was no more than seconds. It spoke volumes in spite of its brevity.

 

“Is… Is that such an unreasonable thought?” Sungwoon asked.

 

“Of course it is my love,” Jisung took hold of Sungwoo’s face, cupping it in his hands so the two could look on another in the eye, “I promise you that we will return home. I assure you of it.”

 

“You cannot make a promise like that,” Sungwoon replied tensely.

 

“Of course I can. I am your husband, it is my duty to keep my promises to you.”

 

“W-well, you need not promise me something like that. I do not need a- a castle to be happy.”

 

“Maybe not, but you deserve one! You deserve better than this!” Jisung’s voice raised unintentionally. He pressed his lips shut, swallowing anxiously. When he spoke again, he softened his tone, “You deserve everything, and I mean that. You deserve so much more than- than a tent and meager portions. You deserve a palace with- with every comfort and luxury imaginable.”

 

“I do not need every luxury and comfort imaginable. All I need is you. Any place is a palace to me, so long as you are by my side,” Sungwoon said sweetly. He traced a thumb over Jisung’s lip, causing his heart to seize slightly with guilt. Though he felt assured that his plan was for the best of all, keeping it from Sungwoon made him feel ill. He knew that his husband would not accept it, though, and therefore he could never divulge the truth. Not yet, at least.

 

“Of course, my love,” Jisung whispered, planting a kiss atop the other’s head. “Of course.

 

  



	13. Castle Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER WARNING(s): N/A

Seongwoo gazed out toward the ocean and heaved a sigh.

 

It’d been just over a week since docking, and things had started to fall into some sort of place. Different crews constructed along different streets, starting from the bottom and working their way up. Houses and buildings were cropping up every day, and crews had even started discussing moving inland toward some of the more stable farmland. Though the settlement of Crescene was by no means flawless, things had been going smoothly, all considered.

 

The lack of chaos caused Ong more anxiety than it ought to.

 

He had expected fires to put out and disputes to break up. He’d wondered if there would be some sort of mutiny or dissatisfaction among the ranks with regards to delegation of duties, resources, or rations. No such things had happened (as of yet). Instead, everyone worked tirelessly. They all worked toward their one singular goal: building a home for their people. It genuinely joyed Seongwoo, it did; however, he still could not rid himself of the paranoia that resided in the back of his head.

 

Things had been going too well.

  
When, he wondered, would that change? If the past decade of his life had taught him anything, it was that good things did not last long. So when was this good thing going to end? And how catastrophic shall the eventual, inevitable thing be? What would it be? Would it be foreseeable?

 

“What’re you daydreaming about?” A voice roused Ong from his worrying.

 

Seongwoo turned to look over his shoulder, met with the genial smile of Captain Yunho; he returned with one of his own, greeting the other, “Captain Yunho. What’re you doing on this part of the city? I thought you were working on the base by the shore.”

 

Yunho shrugged, “I left Changmin in charge. Needed something.”

 

“Oh? Can I help you? What is it you need?”

 

“I needed to find you, actually,”  Yunho said.

 

“Oh- W-well, here I am,” Seongwoo chuckled sheepishly. “Is that it? Did someone need to know where I am?”

 

“Hm. Not exactly. Follow me,” Yunho said, nodding to the west, up the hill that wound onto the street above.

 

“Alright,” Seongwoo said with a shrug. The intensity of the sun bogged the two down, causing them to settle into a rather slow pace.

 

“I ought to ask,” Yunho said, “What were you doing just now?”

 

“Hm? Me?”

 

“Yes, you. Do you not have things to do, hm?”

 

Ong scratched the back of his neck and looked away, “Per- Perhaps I did…”

 

“And yet I caught you daydreaming on the street.”

 

“Well, you must admit, it’s a nice view,” Seongwoo insisted.

 

“Yes, a wonderful view. You can see the ocean and the gulls flying about. Not to mention the workers. All of the workers,” Yunho narrowed his eyes accusingly.

 

Ong could guess what the other implied but refused to admit to it, “Yes. From a bird’s eye view I can see that my crew is working well.”

 

“And your prisoners,” Yunho put bluntly. The blow came like a smack to the shoulder - deliberate but not necessarily threatening.

 

“Well, they are working too, I suppose.”

 

“You _suppose_ ,” The older man scoffs.

 

“And what of it, then? Am I not responsible for them?”

 

Yunho chuckles, holding a hand up, “Settle, settle. I mean nothing by it. I understand wanting to keep an eye on them, I suppose. You… Spent time with these people.” He shrugged. “I cannot pretend to know why you behave the way you do with them, but it is not my business to pry.”

 

“Not to pry, but you will mock.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

The two turned a corner and ascended a set of steps from one level of the street network to the next.

 

“Where are we going?” Ong asked, quirking an eyebrow. Seongwoo had been keeping watch from a fairly high point on the streets, but Yunho was taking them higher. Did they have business at the church?

 

“Patience, patience,” Yunho replied dismissively. “We must go higher, that is all I will say now.”

 

“Right then,” Seongwoo obliged his senior.

 

They walked up another set of steps and set west down a street, toward the church. When they passed it, Ong tilted his head in confusion.

 

“Wh- Are we not going to the church?”

  
Yunho shook his head, “Further.” His eyes cast up toward perhaps the most conspicuous structure of all, and Seongwoo’s face fell.

 

“Come along,” Yunho instructed, nodding toward the hill.

 

Seongwoo frowned. He highly opposed his senior’s insistence. The last thing he wanted was more numbing despair heaped upon him. Of course, Yunho only knew the half of it. The man always had good intentions. For the first time, Ong begrudged him for that. If he could only tell the man the truth: how he’d had the misfortune of falling for the most direly wrong human in the world. Then, surely, Captain Yunho would have mercy on his aching soul.

 

Unfortunately, Ong could not tell Yunho such a thing. As it was, he already regretted that so many people knew. He’d been trying to nose in a bit where he could - find out how each prisoner was doing. A slip of the tongue from Sungwoon or nasty rumor concocted by Jihoon had the potential the escalate dangerously. Luckily, at least so far, few of the Armada’s crew seemed to pay much mind to the prisoners. From what Ong had witnessed, many had nearly forgotten the prisoners were even prisoners. When it came to hoisting up beams or laying down foundations, it hardly mattered where someone came from. That truth could serve to compromise the Captain even further, he realized.

 

“It’s- it’s really not- I mean- Is this necessary?” Seongwoo weakly protested though his feet carried him forward. “I feel as if it’s a waste of time. I- I could be doing loads of things-”

 

Yunho reached out and grabbed a fist full of Seongwoo’s tunic, “And I say you are doing this,” He insisted, dragging Ong forward. The older Captain’s voice softened, and he added, “We all say you ought to do this.”

 

Seongwoo heaved a sigh. He could see the outcroppings of the massive, regal structure just ahead. It grew bigger and taller with each step forward they took - and his stomach knotted and unknotted itself with each step in turn.

 

“Nobody’s stepped foot in there,” Yunho said.

 

“What?”

 

“Not one of us, I mean.”

  
“Wh- Why not? I thought that- that Qri’s crew-”

 

Captain Yunho shook his head, “Everywhere but here,” He nodded toward the castle. They’d already found themselves near the entrance. “We told her not to look here. It’s yours.”

 

“Wh… Why?” Seongwoo frowned, “Why?”

 

“Seongwoo, you were the one who called this place home. We decided that you must be the first to see it as… As it was left. In whatever state it may be. Obviously Admiral Boa and a few of us have ideas as to how it will be used- who shall take residence there, but- but that is beside the point. It would be unfair of us to barge in and change everything without letting you say a proper goodbye.”

 

Hotness stung Ong’s eyes suddenly, but he reigned it back, nodding, “That’s- that’s very gracious of you.” He took pause to collect himself a bit. “Th-thank you all.”

 

All too soon, the two found themselves at the bottom of the steps that cascaded down from the entrance. The steps had seen better days for certain. Massive chunks had broken off and eroded away. In Seongwoo’s memory, they had been kept rather pristinely - the stone kept so clean it practically looked like shining marble. Looking at them in the present, dirt, grime, and wear had settled into every nook and cranny.

 

“But…” Seongwoo bit his lower lip nervously, “How can I truly say goodbye to this place? It has already been tainted.”

 

“It has,” Yunho nodded. He relinquished his grip on the other’s sleeve to look him in the eye more sincerely. “I- I know we cannot go back to that time- this place as it was- for you to say goodbye truly. But… Perhaps- No,” He shook his head, the cogs in his head turning. Something dawned upon his face and he nodded to himself before saying his thoughts, “We wanted to give you a chance to say goodbye, but…

 

“I think it is better to put it like so,” The older Captain’s tone upturned slightly, “I see no person more fit to greet this place than you, the- the last one of us who had left it. Yes, you deserve to see this place to- to understand what these bastards did to your precious home. To say goodbye, but!” He clapped Ong on the shoulder affectionately, “But when you have finished mourning, I think you more than anyone must greet this place first. I want you to welcome it- to be the first to look at this place and know that this- this is the pinnacle of our new home. Something accomplished because of your wit and sacrifice.”

 

Ong’s eyes went wide. None other than Captain Yunho could flip something so grim into something so positive. The younger man could not help smiling.

 

“You want me to say hello?” Seongwoo tried to joke. He still felt conflicted, but he tried to adopt Yunho’s optimism.

 

“Say… Say goodbye. Then say hello,” Yunho said with a grin. “Say goodbye to those horrific memories you have of this place as you left it and- and banish whatever traces of those Kang bastards they left. Then greet and welcome it as the start of something new.”

 

“For such a imbecile you have quite a way with words sometimes,” Seongwoo joked to diffuse some of the mounting tensity.

 

Yunho laughed, playfully shoving Ong toward the steps, “Alright, it sounds like you’re perfectly cheered. That’s enough kindness from me. On you go!” He waved Ong away.

 

“Wh- Enough kindness? Have I hit a limit of sorts?” Seongwoo chuckled. “I was not aware that your good will was a scarce resource.”

 

“It is when dealing with nitwit grunts that decided to grow up and be daring pirate captains,” Yunho replied. He stepped closer to Seongwoo and started pushing the younger man up the steps.

 

Ong resisted - half out of jest and half due to anxiety, “Nitwit grunt? I was an adorable, well-proportioned child, I’ll have you know!”

 

“You can talk about your proportions all you like, you’re still going up there.”

 

Damn, Ong thought, he saw right through the diversion, “Very well then, I- Stop pushing!”

 

“Then go!”

 

“I- Stop!” Ong finally batted Yunho’s hands away a quarter of a way up the steps. “I will go, then.”

 

“Good.” Yunho crossed his arms resolutely, “I will watch.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“Now go.”

 

“I- Yunho, I am not a child-”

 

“Go,” The older man said more sternly. The joking dropped from his tone; he was serious.

 

Seongwoo sighed, resigned to the fact that he could no longer avoid seeing the castle - his former home. Shoulders sagging slightly, he ascended the steps. Occasionally, he’d turn over his shoulder to see if Yunho was still there. Every time he did so, Yunho would respond with a nod and a furrowed brow, urging him forward. After dallying, Seongwoo eventually neared the top of the steps. He clenched and unclenched his fists, the small elation from his banter dissipated.

 

Dread tugged the Captain’s heart down toward the earth. The weight with which it tarried the man’s soul caused it to drag along the cobbles as he approached the towering spires. His body moved limply, neither wholly resistant nor excitedly enthusiastic. Though his eyes remained fixed on the grandiose entrance in front of him, in his peripheral vision he already noted changes: impressions in the ground where trees had been felled, upturned cobblestones, and abandoned equipment. Spikes of metal and strips of leather littered the side of the thoroughfare - a reminder of what had transpired all those years ago.

 

How strange the castle looked in the aftermath, how quiet. The last time Seongwoo had looked at the place - truly looked at it - flames danced behind the panes of stained glass and licked up its stone walls. All too well he recalled the sight of soldiers trekking throughout the cliff like insects, filling every nook and cranny, leaving no crevice unturned.

 

What presented itself before Seongwoo was not that place, that hellish memory, but a husk. The castle appeared impossibly quiet. The aura of imposition it gave off nearly dampened sound itself. Even the crashing of waves quieted as if in mourning respect.

 

When Seongwoo finally reached the front steps of the great place, his jaw dropped. He halted, dropping his head back to observe.

 

“May I be alone?” Seongwoo asked Yunho without looking at him. From the corner of his eye he saw the other nod.

 

“Take as long as you need,” The other replied. “I’ll watch your crews ‘til then. Try to get back before sunset, though, yeah?”

 

“Of course,” Ong responded, gaze still unwavering. He vaguely registered the sound of the other’s footsteps disappearing with distance.

 

Time passed with little more than the sea breeze passing between Seongwoo and the stone titan in front of him. Though it looked like a castle, it felt Iike a mausoleum. A lifetime’s worth of possibilities had been laid there to rest.

 

Seongwoo stepped forward. He wasn’t sure if he’d done so of his own will or if a castle ghost had pulled him by the wrist. Stories of specters and visions had never particularly stirred him, but he thought that if any place in his life was to be haunted, it would certainly be the castle.

 

His feet led him toward the entrance of the castle. The doors looked different - a juxtaposition of hardy newness among the rundown structure. Seongwoo realized it was because the original ones had been battered down. The Captain frowned as he dallied at the threshold. His fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the handle, but he did not pull just yet. Seongwoo had no idea what to anticipate. Would the place be in shambles still? Surely after their occupation they had made some efforts toward reconstruction. Or perhaps they hadn’t. What had become of the precious artifacts and heirlooms within? Had they taken all of them back to the continent when they vacated, or had they intended upon returning to them? What of the hundreds of portraits that adorned the walls? The centuries of history - not just telling of conquests but of families. Of his family.

 

Questions circled around Seongwoo’s head like buzzards around a rotting corpse. Ultimately they all condensed into the sentiment:

 

Did any traces of the place Seongwoo once knew remain?

 

Finally, the Captain roused his will. He knew that standing at the door would not answer any of his questions. So, taking a deep, shaky breath, Seongwoo pulled the handle of the door.

 

_“Screeeeeeee-”_

 

It took more force than anticipated to move the massive structure. Seongwoo’s face contorted into an expression of exertion as he dug his heels into the ground. Whether due to rust or wear, the hinges stubbornly clung onto closure as if by intention. Heat licked at the Captain’s back as he hoisted the heavy door open, its groans echoing loudly all the while. The moment Seongwoo caught sight of an opening large enough, he dropped the handle, and his shoulders slunk.

 

“Can’t make it easy, can you?” He mumbled as if the castle could hear him.

 

The Captain heaved a sigh, taking pause as he crossed the threshold. His head dipped back, and he observed what had become of the grandiose entrance hall.

 

Specks of dust caught the beams of light shining in through the large windows. They drifted idly toward the ground. He followed the little glints that caught the sunlight until they fell onto the floor; they joined their brethren on the ground to coat the once luminous tile in a thick layer. Seongwoo frowned.

 

It looked small, so much smaller than what he had remembered. The ceilings were high, yes, but not nearly as high or opulent as those of Castle Jeon. Cracks splintered the surfaces that had once been covered with artfully depicted scenes. The corridors extending from each side of the foyer looked narrow. And, for the first time, they did not appear as endless as they had once seemed. Ong recalled days gazing down the long corridors, letting his vision twist and blur as he got lost in the geometric patterns of the tile. They had looked as if they stretched on for eternity, as if once he started running down them he would never stop. Though he knew otherwise, it had never stopped him from racing down them (much to the governess’s chagrin). Being double the size he’d been back then, he could plainly see that there was, in fact,  an end - a sharp corner. He swore that paintings once hung at the end of each corridor, but the walls no longer bore any such adornment. They were simply bare.

 

Everything was bare.

 

Long prior looted by the Kang military, no doubt. Why? Seongwoo wondered. Why did they leave that place? He knew only small inklings of the nation’s struggles, the whispering of servants and bits of information fed to him by its King. The Captain knew that the Kang nation’s affairs were bad, but seeing the castle abandoned impressed upon him just how dreadful they had been. After all, for what other reason would a nation fight for a territory only to squander the advantages gained, to let the place rot and decay? Seongwoo wished he knew the answer to that. Had he any genuine allegiance among the court, perhaps he could have sought that answer out.

 

Seongwoo’s feet carried him  down one of the corridors. Though Ong could hardly claim to recognize the place he’d once called home, his feet did not forget. They led him without asking permission toward a staircase he’d travelled many times as a child.

 

* * *

 

The smell of salt, sweat, and sun lingered in the air heavily. Never in his life had Park Jihoon thought beaches would sicken him so thoroughly. In his early childhood, he’d had the privilege of taking trips to the shore with his parents. How he’d cherished those memories. Reality tainted those precious moments for him. The sea air’s heavy, salty humidity sickened him. It suffocated him.

 

“Hoist!” The commanding pirate hollered. His voice rang out loudly above the general din of hollers, gulls, and chattering children. Jihoon took a deep breath, bracing himself as the weight of another beam slowly came onto his shoulder. He and about half a dozen lowly pirates bore the weight of the massive piece of lumber.

 

“And hoist!” The commander yelled again. Jihoon gritted his teeth as he shouldered the log, his face contorting with exertion.

 

“And forward- forward,” The commander yelled. Sluggishly, the workers moved forward one step at a time. They were supposed to be getting it in position for the foundation. “Forward, forward, and-”

 

“Ha! Tag! You’re it!” “No, you-” “You first!” “Come and get me!” Little yells suddenly rang in Jihoon’s ears. His face scrunched with displeasure - as if he needed another reason for a headache.

 

“Wh- Hey! Clear! Out! Out of the building area!” One of the pirates fussed.

 

“Tag!” “No, not tag!” “I can’t be tagged if I’m touching a log-” “Don’t touch that!” “Get out!”

 

Jihoon strained under the weight of the lumber. He swore the others weren’t carrying their weight, but he knew that he couldn’t say anything. Had he been well fed and in fit shape, he would have been able to shoulder more. However, given his current situation, the construction work sapped almost all of his energy. To add rambunctious children to that made Jihoon want to drop dead on the spot. It wasn’t that he disliked children inherently; it was just that, in his current circumstances, they simply added to the ever persistent headache that knocked at his temples day in and day out.

 

“Tag!” “Get me-” “You two are too slow!” “That’s not fair-” “Children!” “Wh- Whoa- Hey!” “I’m gonna get you!” “Not if I get you first!” “Can someone grab those kids?!” “Tag!”

  
Their voices drilled into Jihoon’s ears unpleasantly, and he winced again from the acute pain resonating from his forehead. Scarcely contained chaos ensued as children bobbed and weaved between pirates, yelling all the while. Jihoon imagined one of them getting crushed under a dropped log. It didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility given how the thing’s balance on his shoulder started to waver.

 

“You first-” “Stop-” “Can’t get me! Too slow!” “-will beat your ass red-” “Wh- Hey, watch out I’m-” “Not under the log!” “Get out!” “No!” “I’m catching her-” “No, me!” “Can I help build?” “Tag!” “Oh no you’re-” “Get out!” “No, not the, not the-”

 

Suddenly, Jihoon felt light. Too light. For an instant he wondered if he was genuinely falling unconscious. His eyes went wide and his head whipped around in wonder.

 

“Aah!” “Out of the way!” “Shit!” “They’re dropping it, they-” “Motherf-” “Tag you’re- oh!” “God-”

 

“Thump!!” The lumber slid off of the workers’ shoulders awkwardly, dropping onto the ground with a loud noise. Jihoon still felt at a loss, confused. What had happened? He wasn’t even sure. Somehow they had all managed to lose their balance and grip on it.

 

“Shit!” One of the pirates hissed. A general caterwaul broke out in the wake of the accident, from cursed exclamations to whispered conversations. Jihoon rolled his eyes. Though a small blessing, he supposed he felt grateful enough for the time to breathe. The sun and humidity nearly suffocated him.

 

“I told you to behave!” He could overhear one of the higher in command pirates chastise the children. Only one of them seemed to listen while the rest continued on, carefree. Jihoon scrunched his nose at the lack of discipline. Surely, his governess would have taken a reed to his ass for such an offense. Not to mention the reaction of his late parents. Jihoon caught bits of stray conversation as he waited for his next set of orders.

 

“-Shit.” “This is gonna halt progress…” “-one ought to do something about that.” “And who-“ “But she can’t just shirk her duties-“ “We need all hands on deck.” “What if we were to designate…” “Who can we spare?” “What if…”

 

“You,” A voice bellowed.

 

It took a few moments for Jihoon to realize that the “you” the voice referred to was, in fact, him. He grimaced.

 

“Yes, you,” The one in charge strode toward Jihoon. The prisoner’s heart sunk. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such attention. It was not as if he had summoned a gaggle of rowdy children to disturb them.

 

“You must watch the children,” The man said decisively. Jihoon’s eyes went wide. For a moment he swore he’d gone mad, and he even whipped his head around to assure that the man was speaking to him. “Yes, you. Prisoner.” The pirate elaborated.

 

“M-me? Children? I-“ Jihoon glanced at the tiny menaces. They ran around in a flurry of shrill screams and flailing limbs. “No-“

 

“Young ones!” The pirate bellowed, before Jihoon could utter another syllable. “We have a special job for you!” Given the opportunity for direction, the kids clamored toward the supervising officer and their new liege.

 

“What?” “A job?” “What- what?” “What is it?” “I don’t want to do a job.”

 

“Hush, hush,” The pirate squatted down to look them more rightly in the eye. Jihoon merely stood, frozen with shock and wonderment. What had happened? How could a pirate think he a suitable supervisor for children? Even as a highly respected noble, Kang courtiers were prudent enough not to ask Jihoon to mentor their young ones. He simply wasn’t the type. Governesses and instructors were firm but patient. They were tender and kind and sometimes even indulgent. Park Jihoon possessed not one of those traits. That wasn’t to mention the fact that this man had chosen a prisoner of all people to look after children. It seemed highly unadvisable. In spite of his opinions, Jihoon kept his mouth shut. Clearly the pirates were not seeking out his input.

 

“For your very special job,” The pirate continued in a soft tone, “You must watch our prisoner.” He pointed to Jihoon. Jihoon’s brow furrowed. Fantastic, he thought to himself, now even the children are to treat me as a pariah. He wished he could roll his eyes. The children gasped, awed by the momentous responsibility they’d been given.

 

“B-but, is he dangerous?” “I’ll kick his ass!” “Wh- My mum said you should not say that word.” “Can we really watch him?” “Will he be mean?” “I want to guard him! Me- pick me!” A little choir of responses came from the group of ten or so children.

 

“I believe you can do it - only if you all work together. Over there,” The pirate pointed to the shore, “On the beach.”

 

Clever, Jihoon thought. He gave the pirate credit for being prudent. The beach was in plain sight, easy to see from their current vantage point on the shoreline street. At most, Jihoon could attempt to make a run toward the woods to hide; however, it was a far trip, he’d surely be spotted and apprehended. He supposed that the pirate was generous in assuming Jihoon would demonstrate good will toward their children. Ideas reeled through his head.

 

Could he take one hostage? Find a sharp rock to use as a weapon of sorts? Or perhaps a large, hefty rock or piece of driftwood could provide a blunt object. There were ten children, though, and even if given guard duty for the sake of misdirection, even he couldn’t fight of ten tiny humans piling on top of him.

 

Jihoon eyed one of the children warily. A little boy, perhaps five years of age, bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly. His wide smile was missing a tooth, and a few splotches of dirt decorated his face. The boy’s lips moved, but the prisoner wasn’t listening to what the boy said.

 

The former general’s mind wandered. It roamed for the briefest of moments, walking backwards into the past.

 

Park Jihoon had seen many children during his tours. They, too, were missing teeth and ran around, barefoot and dirty. However, their screams had not been exclamations of titillation and joy. They’d been agonized, terrified sounds. Piercing and miserable, their howls had always managed to be louder than the rest - louder than the adults, louder than the sound of crumbling buildings and hooves pounding against dirt streets.

 

“Prisoner!” A little voice startled Jihoon, and he actually jumped. Heart beating embarrassingly fast, he looked down to see another child had taken hold of his wrist. “You’re our prisoner now!” A skinny little girl said, laughter outlining her voice.

 

Jihoon looked down at her with wide eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Luckily for him, the others began to speak, drowning out his unsettling recollections.

 

“We need rope! We need to tie him down!” “Mister Key, can we have some rope?” “It’s Kibum-“ “Yeah, rope! Get rope! Lots of rope!” “Well, I don’t know about-“ “Please? Mister Key? Please?” “If you can call me Mister Kibum-“ “Please?” “Alright, alright, just a- One moment-“ “Who can tie the goodest knot?” “It’s the best knot.” “Settle down, just a moment and I’ll find rope.” “How come you call him Mister Key?” “I don’t know, on Father Siwon’s ship we just call him that.” “I think we had a Mister Kibum on our ship, too!” “Did not-“

 

“Mister Key” - the pirate in charge - managed to procure some rope and whip the children into some semblance of order. Jihoon endured the humiliating experience of being tied up and marched away by children. Perhaps, in another lifetime, he would have found it endearing. However, the snickering of the pirates around him diminished any charm he may have found in the experience. After myriad warnings and threats whispered, Mister Key sent them off, and Jihoon followed the crowd of kids to the beach below.

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo slowly advanced up the staircase at the end of a corridor. He had walked every hall in the lower floor, inspected every room and traced every wall.

 

The castle looked bare and ghastly.

 

Few signs of life remained - they had all been stripped by the invaders. The further away from the entrance, Seongwoo ventured, the more dilapidated things became. More and more signs of the seige’s struggle remained present; burn marks singed the walls and ambiguous, rusty splatters dotted the tile. Not many material possessions had been left - only the biggest and bulkiest items of furniture had been spared. Dust and ash coated everything, encasing the entire place in a sickly, gray aura.

 

Seongwoo’s body seemed to recognize the place more than his mind. Though his eyes struggled to comprehend or recall every corner, he managed to find himself in places he remembered.

 

His legs carried him up another set of steps and around a corner. He saw halls and corridors that had once been decorated vividly with paintings and statues that he loved to hide behind. Some remained standing, covered in a coating of dust or crumbling at the corners. Others were completely gone, their only trace impressions on the floor that looked slightly less dusty than the others. Holes left behind.

 

The Captain’s steps echoed loudly in the almost vast emptiness of it all. A surreal sensation wrapped around Ong. Though everything looked cavernous and empty, it still felt overcrowding and suffocating. His throat closed in and his chest seized with each step further he took, eyes taking in everything.

 

_“Creak.”_

 

Seongwoo froze. His head whipped around, following the tiny sound as terror froze the blood coursing through his veins. With wide eyes he checked everything. Every nook, every cranny.

 

But, alas, it was nothing. Not even signs of a creature stirring showed. No, Ong thought, it was merely the groaning of a carcass releasing the last bits of its soul into the heavens. A sign that age and time - even if gradual - continued to take its toll.

 

Up another set of steps and it was more of the same. Dread poured over Seongwoo, but it failed to genuinely permeate him. He felt more and more estranged as he wandered the place. This had been his home, but it hadn’t been that for a long time. Could he really claim that it had been _his_ home at all? The boy who had run those halls was so vastly different. Seongwoo practically felt as if he’d been given the memories of another lifetime entirely.

 

Conflicting emotions toiled and bubbled inside the Captain’s gut, and his feet slowed down. Initially, he did not understand why. His brain had been tossing and turning and digesting everything he’d seen, so it scarcely paid mind to the movements of his body. Instead of glossing over everything in the hall he’d found himself in, he looked, carefully.

 

This place was familiar.

 

With a frown on his face, the Captain advanced toward what seemed to be his destination - the place he’d been drawn to without even knowing. With caution, Ong step forward, eyeing what seemed to be a doorway dubiously.

 

Seongwoo felt attacked, assaulted by a sudden shock of emotion. He did not even have the privilege of waiting at the door with bated breath - the door had never been replaced, apparently. All he could do was stand at the threshold, paralyzed.

 

There it was.

 

His mother’s room.

 

The place he had spent so much time in, running around, playing, laughing and learning.

 

Tears blurred Ong’s vision as a foot stepped forward. Then another and another. He leaned against the doorframe heavily, taking it all in. Everything was still in place - or at least, in the places he’d last seen them. Burn marks marked where flame ate at the walls and the floor, along with scratches, tears, and even cracks of the wood. They ran up the legs of his mother’s once luxurious bedframe. The mattress of goose feathers had been stripped of the brocade sheets - they had been blue, Ong remembered that. Singed bits and mold stained the mattress instead. There were no curtains, but the massive wardrobe that his mother often found Ong hiding in remained. Its doors hung wide open, showing the bare emptiness within. It had once overflowed with dresses so many that Ong nearly suffocated when he nestled himself in the massive thing. Her ceiling had once had a grand painting on it of the sky; the paints had since faded, cracked, and peeled.

 

Mother’s maids had always chastised Ong for his presence. “This is no place for a child,” They had always said, frowns making deep creases in their faces as he skipped around. His mother had never cared, though. Not once. She had always welcomed her child with a warm embrace.

 

The embrace that wrapped around Seongwoo in the present felt cold and bony. It clammed up his skin and dragged down his heart.

 

The room looked so small, so desolate. All of the little touches, the things that had made that tiny space a home, they were gone. The small family portrait they had made had disappeared, and mother’s embroidery work was nowhere to be found. Her dressing table used to be topped with all sorts of bits and bobs - tiny little boxes, pretty jars and little casks. The mirror accompanying mother’s dressing table donned dozens of splinters and cracks. Seongwoo caught a glimpse of his reflection, heart dipping in horror at what looked back at him.

 

It was him, distorted. Shattered into hundreds of tiny little pieces and scattered, warped, shifted, and reshaped. It looked nothing like him - this ambiguous collection of flesh and raven-colored shards. Yet, as he found himself lost in the image, he accepted it as a reflection of himself nonetheless. It reflected his emotions, he conceded; it reflected his insides - the juxtaposition between the fantasies of his heart and the harsh demands of his mind. All contained within the frame of reality, of everyone around him.

 

Just like that mirror, he, too, had been broken. He’d been abused and cobbled himself back together into a distorted resemblance of his former self.

 

Seongwoo took a walk around. He ran his hand along the walls, drinking in the sight. Like the rest of the castle, it looked like a hollow shell. It had once been the place he’d called home, full of life, full of the people he loved. Now, it was nothing.

 

Yunho was right, Ong decided. He needed to say goodbye.

 

The place through which he walked was not his home. Not anymore. In its current state, it was a shanty graveyard, stripped of all but the barest markers for memories. With each minute spent in the company of ghosts, nostalgia and sentiment seeped out of Ong’s body. Numbness replaced it.

 

Sniffling, Seongwoo sunk to his knees. He knew he would have to bid farewell to the castle, but he decided he wasn’t ready quite yet. In spite of the thick coating of dust and God knew what else on the floor, Ong laid down. He gazed at the sad, faded depiction of the sky above him until the tears in his eyes smudged into mere blotches of color.

 

For awhile, all was still, and he let those tears fall until there he had nothing left.

 

* * *

 

“Now wrap the loop around like this,” Jihoon instructed, fighting the smirk teasing his lips. The throng of children sitting in the sand followed his lead, looping their scrap cord around their loop of rope.

 

“Like this?” One of the children - a little girl with straw colored hair - asked. She held up her scraggly loop to show the prisoner.

 

Jihoon nodded, “Very good- now, we’re going to wrap another six times or so. Then we’ll pull our end through-“

 

“Wh- What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” A voice echoed out behind Jihoon. A sense of dread piled onto Jihoon’s shoulders like a heavy weight. Seconds later, a shadow eclipsed the sun above him, looking all the more imposing with how the sun’s angle warped its proportion. The prisoner froze momentarily before slowly turning around. He mentally prepared himself for reprobation, racing to come up with a rebuttal.

 

“I am… Teaching the children,” Jihoon said, raising his eyebrows at one of Captain Yunho’s minions (he never bothered committing the names to memory). “As you’d asked. Or- Well, one of you did.To be honest I struggle to discern you lot one from the oth-” A hand swooped down and took hold of Jihoon’s collar before he could continue. The prisoner suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead clenching his fists as he stood up.

 

“You think this is funny?” The man furrowed his brow, stern tone steeped in pique.

 

“Perhaps you can elaborate on the issue at hand?” Jihoon asked. The rhetorical tone made his heart spike simultaneously with thrill and fear. He knew he ought not instigate his jailer, yet he simply could not help it. Having few joys in his life, he clung to what little joys he could.

 

“You were instructed to keep the children out of the way, not to teach them shit like this!” The minion exclaimed before throwing Jihoon back roughly. The prisoner straightened up, crossing his arms in front of himself.

 

“I thought you would understand the importance of knot tying being a man of the sea and all,” Jihoon replied.

 

“So you saw fit to have nearly a dozen children tie nooses?”

 

“They’re useful for all sorts of things- aren’t they, Yeeun?” Jihoon hollered to one of the little girls fussing in the circle. The child beamed at her new teacher, waving around her tiny noose proudly.

 

“I’m gonna hang Jongin like a real criminal!” She said with a giggle. Jihoon flashed the girl a smile before turning to the pirate smugly.

 

“See?” The prisoner practically gloated, “They’re so... _Enriched_.”

 

The pirate didn’t seem to appreciate Jihoon’s impromptu lesson in the slightest; he leaned in, voice low and full of malice,“Your body would nicely enrich the soil if-“ A loud scream and laughter interrupted the pirate’s threat. His eyes went wide, and he all but forgot about the prisoner. “Wh- Hyunjin, no! No- Put that down, do not tighten it around anything- Get that off of your head this instant!” He darted past Jihoon to recover the fibrous contraband from the children before anybody got hurt.

 

Jihoon knew he had only a matter of time before the other would return to chastising him. However, that didn’t stop the wave of glib satisfaction that washed over him like a pleasant wave. He snuck a peek at the scene unfolding, a little smirk resting on his lips.

 

It felt almost disingenuous to engage in such tomfoolery given his circumstances. Yet, it also felt extremely satisfying. It had been so long since he’d enjoyed such a sensation - that feeling of impish excitement, the rush of disobedience.

 

So, so long.

  


* * *

 

A drop of sweat lazily ambled down Daniel’s brow as if bogged down by the sun itself. Within the walls of the hilltop mission, wayward breezes were scarce, cut off by tall spires and thick walls of stone. The prisoner hoisted up the shovel he’d been handed, bringing it down with all the force he could muster. Metal sheathed itself in earth with a soft “shink” noise, and the force of it resonated up the prisoner’s arms and into his muscles. Daniel’s face scrunched with exertion as he dug the spade further in.

 

The cathedral that stood close to the top of Crescene’s coastal precipice had no doubt been grand in its prime of use. Beneath the roots and rubble, Daniel could detect traces of what had once been - carefully laid stones and deliberately rooted plants, even the occasional trinket. However, that prime had long passed. The remains of what may have been a beautiful sanctuary were skeletal. Overgrowth spanned the mission courtyard, and massive hunks of the stone paths had crumbled. The trees had grown amok, their derelict canopies jutting out every which way.

 

At the very least: inside the church, things had fared better. Clearly those in charge had prioritized restoring the place of worship, but their work on the interior seemed dwarfed by the grandiose structure. It still felt bare, like an under dressed maiden at a grand ball.

 

Father (or Captain - Daniel still felt unsure how he ought to refer to him) Siwon had employed a relatively small crew for his restoration. Consequently, Daniel had less difficulty adjusting than he’d thought. Those he worked with regarded him with cold contempt more than outright malice - for that, he felt grateful. Most of his work consisted of lowly labor; he moved rocks and unearthed overgrown shrubs, he pulled weeds and worked with others to lug heavy logs or carts of stone across the mission.

 

A soft chatter broke out across the yard and broke Daniel’s concentration. In spite of what he knew he ought to do, the prisoner took a gander. From beneath his overgrown bangs, he glanced over to see what had happened.

 

Someone had appeared, apparently, and they had something to discuss with his holiness. Initially, Daniel could not make out the figure. However, just when he looked back down, he doubled back instead. The man was unmistakable. Broad shoulders and slender figure. Though Daniel could only make out the lower half of his jawline with the brevity of his glance, he knew who it was. The bastard Captain. Daniel tore his eyes away with immediacy.

 

What was he doing here again? Daniel wondered. Irritation boiled in his gut. He had seen the man darken the mission doorways almost every day since he’d been assigned there. The prisoner had been on his best behavior, but, apparently, the Captain needed to check in. Daily. (Or so Daniel inferred.)

 

Daniel’s heart rattled against his rib cage with anxiety. Imprudently, he snuck a glance at the Captain again. He did so quickly, but from it he could tell the other had clearly returned from something rather taxing. Daniel hadn’t seen the man in a good while, and he wondered if the circles beneath his eyes had always been so pronounced. The man’s fingers fidgeted, and he nibbled on his lower lip just ever so slightly.

 

Had he not gotten everything he wanted? Daniel wondered. He conceded: settling in a new place was no trivial undertaking. Still, where was the satisfaction? The happiness? He had seemed so smug back on the ship, yet not a trace of that remained. The prisoner felt curious as to why. Part of him felt as if he ought to bask in that. Seeing the man who’d undone him not reap gratification from his treacherous actions ought to have pleased Daniel.

 

But it didn’t.

 

Instead, it merely provoked more curiosity. This is what you wanted, Daniel said to the other in his head, why does it not satisfy you?

 

The Captain’s eyes shifted toward the prisoner, and Daniel sheepishly trained his gaze downward, pretending to be enthralled in his work. In his head, he heard Jisung nag him: “Do something!” He would say, “Capture his attention!” The prisoner nearly rolled his eyes at his imagination of the other. Luckily, he stopped himself, instead indulging the pestering voice in his head.

 

Covertly looking toward the other again, he began to contemplate. What ought one do in such a situation? Jisung seemed thoroughly convinced that if Daniel threw himself at the other, things would go as planned. If only such a thing were true. Daniel briefly considered it. He pictured the scenario in his head: sauntering up to the Captain, giving a cheeky smile and purring some flirtatious drivel while the others weren’t looking.

  
He was fairly certain doing such a thing would result in at least a punch. The Captain was no court damsel; Daniel chided himself as he wracked his brain. He had a short window of time to act, and each dead end compromised his plan increasingly.

 

Daniel only knew of the Captain’s physical attraction to him. That, he couldn’t deny. Yet what could he possibly do with that? It was he, the prisoner, who was at the disadvantaged position now. He had nothing to wager with and his allies were scattered across the city.

 

Think, he urged himself. Think, Daniel. Think.

 

Daniel glanced at Father Siwon, and then it ignited.

 

The spark in his head flared, catching on the tiniest fleck of an idea. He stared transparently at Father Siwon all the while, his mouth hanging slightly agape as the tiny ember of an idea in his head grew.

 

Man possessed many basic, primal qualities. Daniel had preyed upon lust, the carnal need for physical touch, but watching the two converse, he finally thought of another one. The ugly emotion that all humans felt, the cardinal sin even the most devout often found themselves consumed by:

 

Jealousy.

 

Daniel realized: he could not throw himself tactlessly at the Captain. It would be too transparent and jarringly suspicious. The thought of playing nice with the man irked Daniel, anyway, and he doubted he could stomach any fake affection for the him. However, the prisoner _could_ be saved. He could be inspired - and who could inspire a pathetic, distraught soul more than a man of the cloth. A handsome man of the cloth with broad shoulders and kind eyes, one that had already cultivated a loyal following for reasons beyond his piety (or so Daniel had heard). The more he thought about it, the more intriguing the idea became to Daniel. The little spark caught quickly, soon spreading into a massive wildfire of rapid thought.

 

Religion could conceivably change someone drastically, especially a person as apparently lost as the imprisoned King. After the threats Daniel had made, how frustrating would it be to the Captain to see him act meek? Ought he be obvious about affection toward the Father, or should he attempt to act subtly? Will the Captain pick up on it at all or is he too preoccupied? Will the Father be suspicious?

  
Daniel nearly had to stop his lips from turning up into a grin. From what little bits of information he’d gathered, the captains meet frequently. Did the Vengeance’s Captain ask about the prisoners? Daniel wondered. What would incline Father Siwon to report on him - and to do so frequently? Ideas raced through his mind, so much so that he nearly got caught gawking.

 

The prisoner quickly averted his gaze as the Vengeance’s Captain once again cast a sidewards glance. Nerves danced around in the prisoner’s chest.

 

It seemed… Acceptable. A risk he could take. The Father seemed merciful enough. The men of the mission had decent demeanors for the most part. While a few favored “bumping” into the prisoner on “accident” a bit too much, overall Daniel did not see them as much of an obstacle. Perhaps “finding faith again” could even gain favor with them. The cogs in Daniel’s head turned and turned.

 

He gazed at the Father once more, the man who - he decided - would save him.

 

Father Siwon would be a most fitting savior; though the nature in which he would save the prisoner would not be the one his holiness expected.

 

* * *

 

Due to the facing of the shore city and the mission’s walls, the courtyard grew dark fairly early. Daniel squinted at his work, struggling more and more to discern roots from rubble.

 

“Shovel down,” A flat voice instructed the prisoner. Daniel’s shoulders sagged with relief as he let the spade fall unceremoniously. The pirate watching him instructed again, “Wait here.”

 

Typically, Daniel’s guard had to fetch his binds before shutting him away into his confines. The prisoner had been obliging and obedient so far. He’d kept his head down and followed orders. This time, however, Daniel’s eyes went elsewhere. On the west side of the courtyard, behind heavy looking double doors was an study of sorts. Daniel had only caught looks of it in passing - as the doors swung open and people entered and exited. One person, in particular, always seemed to be present in said study.

 

The Father.

 

Daniel took a deep breath, eyes boring into the back of his supervisor as the pirate strolled off. The prisoner’s binds were kept in his holding cell which wasn’t very far away. It gave Daniel five or six minutes most to make a mad dash toward his holiness’s study. Hopefully, the Father was even there. Daniel had been watching as closely as he could, and since Father Siwon had gone in an hour prior, he hadn’t exited. At least, not that Daniel had seen. Still, from bits of conversations and things he’d seen, the prisoner guessed that some of the places on the island had hidden entrances and exits.

 

When the pirate fetching Daniel’s binds nearly reached the door to the cell, Daniel did a quick survey. Most of the others working looked busy. Many had already retired due to the darkness setting in; those who remained either focused on work with furrowed brows or chatted lackadaisical.

  
Daniel, heartbeat loudly pounding in his ears, bolted.

 

Fortunately, he had been working closer to the west side of the courtyard, and his trip was brief. Still, it did not stop the panic from chasing the prisoner as he dashed toward the double doors. He did not bother to look around and see if anyone was noticing or following. He heard no protests or yells - a good sign. All he could think about was those doors.

 

As soon as he could reach, Daniel took hold of one of the handles and heaved the heavy thing open. Without another thought, he leapt in, pulling it closed behind him as quickly as possible. Eyes wide and breath ragged, the prisoner rushed to steady himself and address the man who (seemingly unstirred) sat at the desk in front of him.

 

“F-Father?” Daniel asked meekly. He pressed his lips together, nerves pulled taut beneath his skin.

 

The imposing man glanced up from his scripture for an instant before his eyes shot back down. He blinked confusedly, then looked up again, eyes wide with surprise the second time. Though he had clearly been rather shocked, nothing about his expression showed any sort of animosity or pique. He simply looked surprised.

 

“Daniel,” Siwon replied curtly. He stood up, eyeing the prisoner more dubiously. Daniel swallowed nervously. He needed to establish his innocence - or at least some impression of good intent - before the other dismissed him or punished him for wiggling out of his guard. The pirate priest eyed the prisoner up and down in some sort of assessment. Daniel wasn’t sure whether the man had been appraising him as a threat or simply trying to figure out his motive. He didn’t want to find out.

 

“I-I apologize for interrupting your reading,” Daniel hesitantly bowed his head down and clasped his hands together in front of himself courteously. His shoulders sunk, and he hoped he appeared adequately small for the other. It was so unlike how he preferred to face the pirates, head high and full of pride. Though part of him ached internally from acting so deferential, he knew it to be necessary. Haughtiness would not do in a place of worship, especially with a man of the Father’s stature. Even among the less devout of the pirates, he seemed to inspire awe, respect, and a reverence all his own. Pride would do nothing to sway him.

 

Siwon appeared to relax ever so slightly; he didn’t perceive a threat, it seemed, “I imagine you have reason.”

 

Sweat coated Daniel’s palms, and his heart lurched into his throat, “I- I do, yes. I come in peace.” He determinedly met the other’s eyes, praying that the other would not sense his true intentions.

 

“Then peace I grant you,” Siwon replied with a nod. “This is a holy place. Where one comes from does not matter when they enter the chapel doors. We are all the same in the eyes of God. So, tell me, why is it you have shaken your watch to see me?” The priest sounded more interested than accusatory which Daniel counted in his favor.

 

“In truth, F-father, I…I…” Daniel knew what he wanted to express; however, in finding the words to convey that, he faltered. Improvisation had never quite been his strongest point. “I need your help.”

 

“You need my help?” The Father asked, quirking a thick eyebrow.

 

“W-Well, I- In truth, I need… God’s help,” Daniel hoped it was satisfactory. He felt a fool for uttering such words, but oddly enough it seemed to placate the Father’s weariness.

 

Siwon’s face warmed slightly, and he nodded in affirmation, “And how did that bring you to me?” He wondered.

 

“I…” Ideas raced through the prisoner’s head, and he threw himself into an internal frenzy grasping at which ones made the most sense. “I must admit that- that in these trying times my… My faith is… Shaken.” He finally said. Siwon nodded as if in understanding, but he waited for more elaboration before responding. Daniel rushed to continue, too jittery to deliberate words before they left his mouth, “I- I have come to understand that you are a- a very pious man. I find you… Inspirational. These days I feel as if I have lost everything, and- and my faith is one thing I cannot afford to lose. It is one of the few things I have left and yet- and yet I- I-” The more he mumbled, the more his facetious character came to life. He looked the Father in the eye more steadily, trying to look as dismayed as possible.

 

“I struggle with these- these thoughts. Absolutely dreadful, terrible thoughts. In these past weeks I have come to question everything and I feel as if I- I have nothing. N-nothing, and I just- I just- I see no end to this. To this emptiness, this dread,” Daniel wished he could cry on command. He certainly would have had he the ability, but he had to settle for looking lost and confused. “I just… I just want to be as strong as you. I want… I want to believe this new life is worth living, that- that there is a God. I have nobody, I- I need a reason to keep on…”

 

“That’s enough,” Siwon held a hand up. Any reservation in his expression had melted away. His lips turned up into a small, warm smile. Slowly, he stepped out from behind his desk. His boots sounded heavy against the worn wooden floors beneath, and with each echoing “clunk” on the floor, every step closer the Father got, Daniel felt his heart pound. The prisoner remained steadfast nonetheless, simply watching the other with wide eyes as he closed the distance between them.

 

Suddenly, Father Siwon reached out to him. Daniel froze, paralyzed in place with panic. He tried not to look as terrified as he felt. The pirate priest’s hands extended toward him, cupping his face gently. Siwon’s dark onyx eyes bore into Daniel’s widened ones. Idly, one of the pirate’s thumbs stroked Daniel on the cheek. Had he not been absolutely mortified, no priest Daniel had ever known would dare to touch others as Siwon had.

 

“God bless you,” Siwon broke the silence that had enveloped them. His tone sounded soft, dripping with almost affectionate mirth. “You need not be a lost sheep any longer. You, who have come to me, humble, with nothing… I shall hoist you on my shoulders, and we will rejoice when you are found once more - but-” His tone cooled down, solidifying into something more serious, “-only if you are genuine, if you come to me with true intentions and a pure heart.”

 

Nerves stabbed Daniel in the chest. For a moment, everything quieted; one could hear a mouse skittering across the floor. He feared the worst: that Siwon had somehow figured out his intentions. The prisoner did not say anything. He did not move. He did not even blink. He felt powerless, like prey that had locked eyes with a predator, and all he could do was wait for Siwon to sink his teeth in and rip his throat out.

 

“You must have a confession,” Siwon said finally. Daniel wished he could let out the large breath he’d pent up. The priest nodded, “Yes, you must have a confession. Then, as you serve penance… Yes, I’d… I’d like you to work closely with me, then.” His hands dropped from the prisoner’s face, and he began stroking his own chin. Quickly lost in thought, the Father began pacing a bit, muttering more to himself than Daniel. “Yes… If you can read… You can organize scripture… Part of the day then- Yes… And I can help him…”

 

Daniel stayed rooted in place. All the while, the Father uttered vague ramblings about plans. Apparently, the prospect of “reforming” the prisoner and “lighting his path back to God” immensely excited the Father. Daniel watched on as the other laid out a plan in his head, excitedly chattering on about finding God, rattling off little parables and likening the prisoner to a sheep.

 

Daniel couldn’t believe it.

 

He let the pirate priest ramble on, occasionally nodding in affirmation so as not to rouse suspicion. Though he tried to appear present, his mind wandered. From the high perch of the mission, the crashing of waves sounded nearly mute. Still, even so far away, the soft noise stubbornly seeped in through the thick walls. Combined with the priest’s muttered planning, it created a dull chatter that filled Daniel’s ears. Burning orange light spilled into the room from behind the priest - the sun’s last few rays before it descended into the depths of the watery horizon. It swathed the walls and floor tiles in brilliant patches of bright light and created pronounced, inky shadows where it couldn’t reach.

 

Exhaustion set into Daniel’s bones as his body realized that the day was near completion. Soon, he’d be escorted to his small corner of the mission where he would sleep through the night. Or at least attempt to. The Father’s words slurred into a steady drone, practically lulling the exiled King to sleep.

 

In spite of everything, he came into mind. _He_.

 

The bastard Captain.

 

Would this really work? Daniel wondered. Would the Captain be so upset by seeing his…

 

What was Daniel to the Captain?

 

His mind went off on tangent.

 

Yes, they had a palpable tension - a craving for the flesh - but could the Captain not find another play thing now that he’d seized an island? The man had shown a streak of possessiveness at Castle Jeon - he seemed discontent when Daniel’s attention had been pulled to diplomacy. However, that had likely been part of his ruse… Right?

 

The tired prisoner’s mind tousled and tangled with the recollections infiltrating his mind. Things he’d worked so hard to cast out rebelliously bubbled up to the surface. Once again, he found himself doing something he had done so, so many times over the past weeks:

 

He grasped to find evidence that, perhaps, Seongwoo’s feelings had a note of authenticity.

 

So long had Daniel spent, agonizing over every minute detail of their interactions. He dissected every moment he could most clearly remember, trying to bring to memory every bit of his manner - from the glimmer in his eyes to the twitch of his lips. Whenever the then-concubine had expressed jealousy, his lips took on a pout. He’d cast his eyes down in shame and embarrassment.

 

Truly, Daniel mused, a master of theater he had been.

 

The prisoner banished the digression from his head. His main concern had to be getting the attention of the Captain. The past had nothing to do with that. Perhaps the Captain harbored some possessiveness for his most high profile prisoner. Perhaps he did not. At the very least, the exiled King’s sudden piety ought to raise some sort of attention grabbing flag. The Father demanded respect, and Daniel realized that gaining favor with him could prove even more fruitful than gaining the favor of a lowly spy.

 

“Daniel?” Father Siwon’s voice roused the prisoner.

 

Daniel’s eyes widened as he snapped out of his daze, “Y-yes, your… Holiness?”

 

Once again, the man’s onyx eyes bore into the prisoner as if to inspect his mortal soul. Daniel’s eyes darted between Siwon’s face and the ground. He prayed none of his reflection had given him the appearance of scheming. After a pregnant pause, the Father spoke again.

 

“Kneel,” The Father commanded coolly.

 

Daniel’s gut twisted. Kneeling - a gesture of submission and obedience. A position in which a person is incredibly vulnerable. With a shudder, the prisoner obliged. He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he heard the priest step toward him.

 

_“Thud. Thud. Thud.”_

 

The prisoner half wondered if the man put lead in his boots. He stepped so heavily, so deliberately, it sounded thunderous; it nearly drowned out the soft crashing of the waves. At least, to Daniel it certainly sounded like thunder.

 

“I am going to extend a hand over you and say a prayer,” The priest informed Daniel. The prisoner practically let out a sigh of relief, however he dared not make any sudden movements. Father Siwon recanted a blessing, “Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gifts you grant upon us every day…”

 

His prayer took an eternity - or so it felt to the prisoner. Eventually, the pirate finished. Daniel wished he had the freedom to bolt from the room. Instead, he timidly glanced up from beneath his lashes, internally begging to be dismissed.

 

“Amen,” The priest finished and looked at Daniel expectantly.

 

“A-amen,” Daniel echoed. Then, he waited. After yet another eternal spell of silence, Siwon broke the quiet once more.

 

“You are dismissed. Jinki is posted outside the door and shall escort you to your place of holding,” The Father said with a nod.

 

Daniel started to get up without a word. He daydreamed about sprinting out the door but settled for being slow and orderly.

  
Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder halted him, pushing him back onto his knees. Panic shot through the prisoner’s chest. Working to steady his breaths, Daniel sunk back down onto his knees, eyes meeting Siwon’s above him once more.

 

The priest flashed a cordial, close-lipped smile, “Actually, I’ve one more thing to say to you.” He slid his hand from Daniel’s shoulder across his collarbone. The pirate traced up the prisoner’s neck, before finally taking hold of the captive’s chin, tilting his head to look up. Goosebumps stood erect on the prisoner’s skin in the wake of the touch - out of fear or surprise, Daniel could not tell. He merely returned the intense, dark gaze with his own confused one.

 

Though Siwon’s tone had mirth and the tips of his lips warmth, his words communicated no such thing:

 

“The opportunity for redemption is a gift given by God, but it is given through me. Should you do anything to squander this - to slight myself or my people… Well, God help your soul. For the vessel on which you occupy this earth will be slowly, tormentingly torn apart - bit by bit until there is _nothing_ left.”

  
When the prisoner said nothing, the priest asked:

 

“Do you understand?”

  
Daniel felt terrified of speaking, so he nodded instead. The fear in his eyes was no part of his ruse. Father Siwon struck Daniel as unlike the other dullards Daniel had crossed paths with and overheard. The battle scars and markings he bore told a story - many, perhaps. As a collective they spoke of great pains he’d endured both willingly and unwillingly. He carried himself with the confidence of a person who genuinely had no fears. All he needed to do to get his way was to ask - the pirates served him loyally without even the slightest of pushback. His underlings regarded him with almost awe - save for a few of his highest officers.

 

He was not a man to be underestimated and certainly not a man to be trifled with.

 

A law had been laid down, a rule that Daniel had intended to break from the beginning. One slip-up and the Father would make good on his promise.

  
Daniel was trapped at that point; he had no choice but to commit himself to following the Father’s whims. An ill feeling stewed in his gut - worry and dread tossing and turning, folding into one another.

 

“Do you understand?” Father Siwon asked again more emphatically.

 

Daniel nodded, “Yes, sir.” He said.

 

“Good,” The priest let go of the prisoner’s chin, strolling back to his desk as if he hadn’t just promised to torture the prisoner for bad behavior. “You are dismissed.”

 

“Y-Yes sir,” Daniel mumbled, scrambling onto his feet. He eyed Siwon dubiously, wondering if he would have any other impulsive additions to his long speech. He didn’t, and so Daniel shuffled quietly over to the doors.

 

The man named Jinki took him to his improvised holding cell, and soon Daniel found himself alone once again.

 

No longer did brilliant, bright rays of sunlight paint the sky. The sun had set, and only the flame of a single candle gave Daniel company. However, he did not need that for long. The prisoner laid down on his shanty mattress, thoughts whirring across his head. He couldn’t help slightly regretting his decision to approach the priest. All the worry in combination with the long days of work wore on him quickly, and soon he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.

 


	14. Faith in Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 13 WARNING(s): N/A

Timid rays of sunlight snuck into the windows of Castle Jeon early that morning. While a few nobles had risen with the morning larks, many remained peacefully asleep in their plush beds. The servants of the castle knew no such luxury. Having risen hours before sunrise, head maid Eunji felt her feet already begin to drag. The morning sun had barely begun shining into the windows, yet she already felt rather ready to heave herself onto her mattress.

 

In truth, Eunji had gotten little meaningful rest since sending off her message to Seongwoo. She frowned internally thinking of it. Though her inner flame would extinguish for many hours, when she woke up it felt as if she’d had no rest at all. Work heaped itself upon her ceaselessly, doing nothing to aid her situation. 

 

Ever since the announcement of King Daehwi’s engagement, all sorts of strange nobles had arrived. Those who had come for his coronation had felt inclined to stay, and, apparently, penned their rich friends letters urging them to come, too. At least, that was Eunji’s inference. For what other reason would so many she had not seen once in her years of servitude show up now? The maid tried not to chew on that question too much. Elaborating on it would yield nothing of consequence, anyways.

 

The maid’s feet slid across the shining tile of the corridor as she walked. 

 

Elaboration, thinking, wondering and pondering - she’d had more than her fair share of that. As fruitless as it was, she could not help herself. All she could do was pray and wait for some sort of sign or an opening to gain more information. Something. Anything.

 

“Good morning, Miss Eunji!” A soft voice called out behind the head maid. Eunji’s eyes widened, and she glanced over her shoulder at the younger woman. 

 

Her shoulders sagged with relief to be met with one of her trusted allies, “Ah, Chorong. Good morning- of course, it’s barely started, hasn’t it?”

 

“Precisely!” Chorong skipped up to Eunji’s side, and as she grew closer, the older woman could see a glint of mischief in the other’s eye.

 

“Oh, my. What’ve you got for me? That little smile you’ve got tells me it’s trouble.”

 

“Am I really that obvious?” Chorong covered her mouth as she giggled.

 

“Yes, girl. You’re far too bright for such an early hour in the morning. Tell me, then, what’s got you skipping and giddy?”

 

“We’ve found the noble lady another dress,” She whispered.

 

“Hm? A dress?” For a moment, Eunji’s face scrunched with confusion. “For a… Lady?”

 

“Yes. A lady…” Chorong’s eyebrows raised as if in waiting.

 

The head maid mulled it over. Why on earth would finding a dress for some noble lady pertain to her? Why would it cheer her? Her exhaustion addled brain chewed on the girl’s words for a few moments until, finally, realization ignited.

 

“Wh- A noble lady as in-” Eunji lowered her voice, doing a quick scan of the hallway, “As in Lady Hyerim?”

 

Chorong nodded enthusiastically, “Precisely! Bomi managed to snatch it fresh from the laundress’ before it was sent back early this morning. If we get you in it near after sunrise, you shall have a whole day ahead of you to do anything you possibly can.”

 

“Well,” Eunji nibbled on her lower lip. She supposed she had asked for a sign. What better sign than what she’d been told? Still, in spite of her previous success, the thought of masquerading again made her nervous. An evening and a brief morning were manageable, but an entire day? Would she not be exposed? How many fake conversations and misdirections could she truly conjure out of thin air? “I suppose if we have the timing, we ought to. You’re right. We must act quickly so I can have the day.”

 

“Excellent!” Chorong grabbed the head maid’s wrist and began dragging her in the opposite direction, “We must make haste to the laundry then! Namjoo is busy preparing rooms, but Hayoung and Bomi ought to be there to help you dress!”

 

“R-Right,” Eunji followed anxiously. The two made a quick trip back toward the nearest servant tunnel; all the while, the head maid calculated and concocted stories and lies to tell.

 

* * *

 

“Just a touch more rouge…” Hayoung pursed her lips as she swept a brush delicately along Eunji’s cheek. “And… Perfect!” Setting down the brush she’d commandeered, Hayoung picked up the looking glass to show Eunji her handiwork. Upon reaching the laundry room, the head maid had been rushed to a corner, yanked by both close confidants and laundresses who swore secrecy. 

 

Once again, Eunji had been arranged a coordinate that appeared understated yet rich. Her deep red dress shimmered in the light due to the lustrous material it’d been crafted from. Intricately beaded trim adorned the square neckline and cuffs of the long sleeves. It appeared relatively simple compared to other courtier styles, but the materials and dark colors meant it did not appear out of place. One wearing such a garment would likely not stick out; Perfect for Lady Hyerim. Her hair had been swept back, plaited and formed into a neat chignon. A simple ruby pendant hung from her neck to tie the look together.

 

“You’re such a beauty, Miss Eunji. You really could have been a lady in another lifetime,” Hayoung cooed. The others present nodded in agreement. While Eunji wished she could have preened at the comments, she felt far too anxious. She knew her capabilities and felt assured that, once she had readjusted to playing noble, she would feel more comfortable. However, until then, doubt lingered in the back of her mind.

 

“Thank you all,” Eunji said with a nod. She hopped off of the overturned washbucket she’d been using as a seat and turned to regard her helpers: Chorong, Hayoung, Bomi, and the laundresses. “Thank you. Now- Remember, once I leave the servant’s quarters, we do not know each other.

 

“Of course.” “Yes.” “Right!” The lot replied.

 

Eunji looked at each and every one of her helpers. Internally, she thanked them again. While the laundresses simply thought it a diversion of sorts - a serious naughty deed, but a diversion - her girls knew better. Their game was a dangerous one, one they could not afford to lose.

 

“Chorong, Bomi, continue your duties. Hayoung, with me,” Eunji nodded toward the exit of the laundry room, “You shall escort Lady Hyerim to the least conspicuous outlet of our servants halls.”

 

“Yes ma’am!” “Right.” Chorong and Bomi nodded affirmatively.

 

“Right- With you!” Hayoung lifted her skirt and scurried to the other’s side. The head maid and her right hand gave their last parting remarks before exiting into the winding halls of the servant’s work areas. “Have you got a plan, Miss Eunji?” She asked hushedly as the weaved around busy servants.

 

Eunji shook her head, “Not quite a plan, but… A goal, yes.”

 

“Your goal, then?”

 

“I believe that cuckold of a Baron is my best chance of learning anything about the inner workings of this new order.”

 

“Cuckold? Is he really a cuckold?”

 

“What?” Eunji halted for a second, looking at Hayoung in disbelief. “Why would you ask such a thing?!”

 

“Wh- Well you just call him one so assuredly, I-”

 

“No! He is not a cuckold! I- Well, in truth I do not know his most intimate life details,” The faux noble rolled her eyes before picking up a brisk pace again. “Nor do I want to know.”

 

“Oh- Well why would you say such a thing then? He seems quite fond of you,” Hayoung said. Eunji couldn’t tell if the girl was being serious or if she’d spoken contrarily for the sake of amusement. She felt inclined to believe the latter.

 

“He is fond of Lady Hyerim. A fake, made-up noblewoman who is not me. I mean- I suppose you haven’t been present, but I promise you: Lady Hyerim and myself differ. Greatly.”

 

“Maybe you ought to keep your mind open, Miss Eunji. This could turn into something,” Hayoung provoked the other.

 

“It turns my stomach is what it turns!”

 

“Think of it. You could be a baroness.”

 

“I’m quite certain I can’t, as I have no dowry to offer.”

 

“We could come up with something, I’m sure! If it’s for your sake, we would come up with something-”

 

“Hayoung!” Eunji gasped. “Borrowing a single dress and a few accessories is one thing. A dowry!? Are we a bandit syndicate now? Is this what we’ve turned to?!”

 

“Come, come. Don’t dare say you that the attention isn’t nice- at least a little bit.”

 

“No, Hayoung. It’s really not. Need I remind you I am not doing this  _ for fun _ . If I arouse suspicion it’ll be my head, not yours!”

 

“Right- right, of course,” Hayoung’s tone dropped. “I just thought it funny…” Her face fell slightly.

 

Eunji frowned herself. She knew Hayoung meant no harm. In the darkest of days, humor was one of the few things those with little to their name had. No doubt Hayoung merely wanted to have a few moments of fun before Eunji had to put on her strict, formal facade.

 

“Well, he is attentive…” Eunji said, giving her poor, dejected junior a scrap.

 

“So you admit, he is not a cuckold!” Hayoung brightened up immediately, clapping. 

 

“That is not what I said!”

 

“You said you don’t know, though-”

 

“I mean, something about his manner… His face…”

 

The two carried on, dragging Baron Kwak through the mud jokingly until they finally reached the southeast passage. Their laughter died down, and Eunji gave Hayoung a final nod. 

 

“Thank you,” Eunji said again. She could say it ten thousand times, and it would not feel like enough.

 

“Thank you,” Hayoung replied, “You are putting yourself at risk for something you believe in. For a dear friend who is so far that he cannot even know- cannot even thank you. You’re in my prayers.”

 

“And you in mine,” Eunji eyed the staircase that would outlet to one of the east corridors with dread. “I’m off. It’s still rather cool at this hour, perhaps I could start Lady Hyerim’s morning with a stroll through the garden before court…” She mused aloud. In truth she had no idea where she would find Baron Kwak in his early hours.

 

“Godspeed,” Hayoung said.

 

“I shall return no later than eleven and thirty tonight,” Eunji declared as she ascended the steps. “Time to be... Fanciful,” She muttered to herself dubiously before exiting to the threshold.

 

* * *

 

 

Eunji pursed her lips as she scanned the garden horizon. The sun had begun its ascent in earnest, and even the late risers had likely had their morning meal. Still, amidst the pristinely kept hedges and blooming flowers, she saw no sign of her mark. Judging by the sun’s position, it was near nine which meant court would soon begin.

 

“Slippery bastard,” Eunji grumbled to herself as she picked up her skirt to scuttle toward the castle. How inconvenient, she thought, when she sought out the Baron’s company, he was impossible to find.Yet when she wished to avoid him, she had been forced to hide behind statues and run in the opposite direction.

 

Dejected, the faux lady scurried back to court as quickly as her fanciful shoes could carry her. Her brow furrowed as she entered the grand throne room. She searched the crowd for Baron Kwak or even one of his acquaintances. However, before he could find the man, the proceedings began.

 

It was then that a familiar, tall figure pronounced itself from the crowd. She secretly willed him to look her way, even wishing to wave around wildly just to capture his attention. By chance, he gazed across the room.

 

Eunji swallowed nervously. Finally, he’d found her. Though she had been striving to get his attention, upon having it, her guts tossed. Locking with his gaze, she flashed a glowing grin and fanned herself furiously. Fanning, she’d learned, is one of the many “subtle” ways that court ladies indirectly expressed their feelings. In the maid’s opinion, few things were less subtle than waving a lacy fan as if a bee was giving chase. However, she conceded that she need not care for the rules to follow them.

 

Baron Kwak returned her grin with one of his own, giving a small nod. Surely he would approach when there was a pause in the proceedings. Until then, Eunji alternated between paying attention to court and giving flirty looks to her target. 

 

The maid had always worked for the people of nobility, but not once had she actually witnessed court in session. Being given the opportunity to sit in, she actually found some affairs quite interesting. The Kings at primly on his throne, speaking to citizens one by one. They presented concerns ranging from economical to fantastical. Stories of livestock being spirited away were woefully told, and questions about the alliance’s effect on trades were asked. King Daehwi managed to answer them all with grace. Poise aside, Eunji realized that many of the King’s answers were scarcely answers at all. They served more to misdirect and soothe than anything else. After a particularly riveting dispute regarding a shared fence between two farms, recess was called.

 

Courtiers waited no sooner than the last syllable of the herald’s announcement before erupting in conversation and shuffling away. Eunji’s eyes darted around panickedly. She knew she had mere moments before he would approach her. She tried her best to play coy, primly striding out of the throne room with the crowd.

 

“Lady Hyerim!” Baron Kwak took Eunji’s side. His eyes were wide with shock as he matched her slow pace.

 

“Baron Kwak,” Eunji gave a sideways courtesy. “It is a delight to meet you once more.”

 

“Yes, quite,” He said dubiously. The baron fidgeted with his hands a bit before clasping them in front of himself, “I must ask milady, where have you been? If I did not know any better I would think you avoiding me.”

 

“Why- Avoiding you?” Eunji feigned shock - she even brought a hand to her chest, “What ever would give you such a thought? Did you not receive my message?”

 

“Hm? A- a message?” The baron asked.

 

“Why- Yes, my message,” Eunji had rehearsed these lines in her head all morning. “I told you my dear friend was passing through Urcapitis so I made the trip. Did… Did my letter not reach you?”

 

The Baron seemed relieved; his shoulders sagged, and he chuckled sheepishly, “Of course, I- I regret to inform you that I never received your message.”

 

“Oh, bother. I apologize profusely for any misunderstandings, Baron. I truly did not mean any offense!”

 

“I completely understand. I now see why you saw fit to entrust my Jason with the message for your sister.”

 

“Y-yes, of course. Right.”

 

“Some servants are just so unreliable. It’s a shame, truly. Their jobs are so simple. It’s utterly baffling that they manage to mess them up.”

 

Eunji suppressed a roll of the eyes, “Yes, well, let us put that past us now. I am here and I intend to stay until at least the wedding.”

 

“Very good,” The Baron said, a pleased smile on his face. “All that court business leaves me wanting for some fresh air. Care to join me for a walk in the gardens?”

 

“I would be honored, Baron,” Eunji answered, giving another winning smile. “Please, lead the way.”

 

The good thing about Baron Kwak was that he naturally liked to talk. Eunji needed to do little to prompt him, and she didn’t need to make much up on the spot. He spoke of goings on in her absence: meetings and wedding preparations. Miscellaneous court gossip and ramblings, and, of course, his estate in his absence.

 

It had gotten much warmer since her morning walk, and Eunji found herself fanning more out of necessity than projected flirtation (not that the Baron could tell). The two carried on their slow pace as the stepped out into the now crowded gardens.

 

“...nd so we’ve been fortunate enough to be able to reopen that route!” Baron Kwak beamed about some sort of trade nonsense. He gave Eunji a far too adoring look before relenting a bit, “Apologies, my talk must bore you terribly. You are a lady, you’ve no concern with matters of trade and territory.”

 

He was half-right. He did bore her; however, as much as she loathed it, Eunji had to admit that his information could be useful. Apparently, many previously bandit-ridden trade roads had recently become much more peaceful. Why would that be? Eunji wondered. It seemed far too convenient to be coincidental. It seemed most logical to her that the crowning of a new, young King would increase unrest, not deter it.

 

“Though I do not understand everything you say, it’s most attractive to see a man so invested in the stability of his estate. Things like trade and territory are important for the whole Kingdom, are they not? After all, is your success and wellbeing not indicative of the wellbeing of the nation?” Eunji hoped she sounded neither too intelligent nor too dense in asking that. In truth she merely hoped to spur the Baron further

 

“You flatter me, milady!”

 

“Well you are a man of noble standing! It is the stability of the nobles that upholds a nation.”

 

“Ah! It is most refreshing to meet a woman who understands how things work. Or- more properly, how they ought to.”

 

“Well, I cannot pretend I fully grasp the current state of things. I simply infer that a King ought to serve his court- for his court is the representatives of his people.”

 

“Right- Yes,” Baron Kwak keened at the miscellany the maid spun. She purposefully implied that the King ought to serve nobles - in other words: him. She had hoped it would please him, and it seemed her blathering had paid off. “Yes, I anticipate this upcoming reign shall be a more… Beneficial one. More cooperative.” The Baron nodded.

 

“Oh? What makes you think so?” Eunji wished she could be more direct and ask about King Daniel, but she didn’t want to sound too prying.

 

“Well our new King is smarter about those he surrounds himself with- to whom he delegates power.”

 

“I suppose it is no mere coincidence that Duke Hwang had been promoted, then - is it?” The faux noble lady asked. She searched the Baron’s face for any sort of reaction. “After all, he is quite sharp and his territory key to trade toward the old capital and palace.”

 

“Yes, precisely. Minhyun is a most prudent choice. It honestly strikes me as rather curious that he hadn’t been appointed to such a position earlier. I digress- once Minhyun is fully recovered I believe he will perform his duties perfectly.”

 

“Well?” Eunji asked, unconsciously fanning herself more quickly. “I was not even aware that the Advisor had fallen ill. I must put him in my prayers.”

 

“Yes, please do. Unfortunately the poor soul has been ill since returning from his annual hunt just over a month ago. His injuries have healed, yet something persists in him.”

 

“Do you think he caught something in the midst of that commotion? How dreadful.”

 

“To be most honest, milady, I think his illness is more a work of his mind than anything else. You see, when a man is burdened with great tasks and things change quickly, it affects his livelihood in many ways.”

 

Eunji bit her tongue yet again, refraining from firing back at the “when a man” bit. As if women did not have to endure three times the buffoonery men did. If they attempted to use their life’s troubles as an excuse, they would be dismissed as frail or weak.

 

Instead, she replied with a deferent, “I see. He has had greatness thrust upon him, has he not?”

 

“Quite!” The Baron nodded. “But…” His tone brightened, “He is not without a capable cabinet to rely on.

 

“Cabinet?” Eunji asked, her nose scrunched in confusion.

 

“Those with which he consults for his decisions to advise the King,” Baron Kwak stood more upright, puffing his chest out slightly, “You mustn’t tell a soul, but I have been invited to sit in on the discussion of commerce meetings of late. I can personally attest to the capability of the new order being built.”

 

There it is! Eunji exclaimed in her head. A wide smile crossed her lips - this one genuine. So he did have a semblance of standing. She’d suspected so, but his words confirming it came as a great relief to Eunji. This, she thought, she could work with.

 

“Is it too early for me to congratulate you, Baron?” Eunji asked in a hushed voice - as if she’d been let in on some exciting secret. (She supposed that she had been - though her excitement undoubtedly differed from his.)

 

A satisfied smile spread across the Baron’s lips, and he whispered, “Maybe so, but for you milady I make this one exception and accept your congratulations.”

 

“Thank you kindly,” Eunji replied, trying to look absolutely elated. “With your trade routes losing their shackles, I am sure you will build up your prosperity - and the Kingdom’s - once more.”

 

“Yes, I am rather fortunate to be in this position. Of course, we look not only to what we have but what we can gain as well,” The Baron lowered his voice again, leaning in. Eunji felt an intense sense of repulsion bubble up in her chest, but she remained steadfast in her charade, matching him ever so slightly. “Soon we will rule the seas with our allegiance.”

 

“Th-the sea?” Eunji choked out, praying her tone sounded ecstatic and not panicked. “But we’ve so much land, ought we not prioritize that?”

 

The Baron laughed as if humored by a woman’s simple mindedness. He seemed chuffed which, in turn, made Eunji incredibly vexed.

 

Shaking his head with mirth, the Baron replied, “Perhaps in the short term, but we cannot stay landlocked forever.”

 

“Our corner of the continent simply has- has so much to offer. Such diverse agriculture and terrain. Would it not be… Challenging to pursue the unknown of the sea? Risky even?”

 

“Meaningful change requires a bit of risk and a lot of bravery. I have faith that our men and theirs will rise to the challenge.”

 

“And- and what of you? Are you going to build ships, too? If we focus so heavily on the sea what does that mean for the nobility whose stake is primarily domestic?” Eunji spun a thread of shit optimistically. She tried to sound worried so as to not appear too contrarian. “Will you not fear for your status?”

 

That made the Baron take pause. His steps halted, and he gave the faux noble woman a rather dubious sideways glance.

 

“You… Ask many questions, don’t you, milady?” The Baron asked.

 

Eunji’s heart lurched, and she rushed to recover, trying to sound even more timid and meek, “I apologize, Baron. My- my incessant questioning is rather inappropriate. Please, forgive me. I just…” She made a show of pausing and wringing her hands together nervously, “I- I worry for you- for our upstanding noble people of the court. I do not oppose expansion, it merely scares me to think of what will happen to all the…” She strained to come up with something that wouldn’t make her gag, “All the hard-working, honorable people of our court.”

 

The Baron’s suspicion immediately melted away, and a sunny smile stretched across his lips once more. Whatever she had said (Eunji could scarcely believe it herself) had worked.

 

“I see, I see. It must be difficult for you to understand change,” The Baron said.

 

Eunji ignored the patronizing remark and nodded, “Yes, yes it is. After all, for so long I have only known the world a certain way. I feel as if you are… Opening my eyes, Baron. I appreciate your company for doing so.” She gave yet another fake smile. Eunji wondered if, in a past life, she had been an entertainer of sorts for just how acclimated she’d become to acting.

 

“And you mine, though to different things, I am sure,” The Baron replied cooly. The two picked up their walking pace once more.

 

“So, Baron,” Eunji decided she ought to use the previous subject as a springboard and asked, “Because I so… Lack understanding of these new things: this new order and our Kingdom’s plans, would you be able to explain them to me?”

 

“Hm?” Baron Kwak chuckled, “And what for? What use would a lady such as yourself have for such boring information?”

 

“Oh, please, please do. Just indulge me this once! You can put it as simply as you wish,” Eunji batted her eyelashes. “I feel as if I may understand you better if I understand these things.”

 

“Very well then,” The Baron gave in easily. “I shall indulge you. Tell me, what is it you want to know?”

 

Eunji smiled widely at him. Little did this man know that every bit of information he was giving her - even the tiniest slivers - would be used as ammunition. For what and against whom, she still was not quite sure. 

 

Not yet, she thought, but soon.

 

She held onto that hope, clung to it with white knuckles and gritted teeth: 

 

Soon everything would make sense, and if that meant cozying up to a patronizing Baron, then so be it. 

 

* * *

 

 

Metallic clunks and clinks filled the air with a steady, pounding rhythm. Guanlin nibbled on his lip as he drove the hefty nail further and further into the wood. The work was mundane, but satisfying. He got to see the bare bones of a structure turn into a building - something he’d never seen before.

 

Suddenly, a loud, clear voice rang out, interrupting the mundanity of his work.

 

“To the beach for your meal!” The supervising officer hollered to across the site. A collective sigh of relief came over the crowd of sweaty, tired pirates. Shoulders slumped and bodies dropped to the ground dramatically. Some stretched out while others already started rushing down the streets toward the beach.

 

Guanlin took a look up the hill, a little smile on his lips. Even though his crew had only reached the second street up from the shore street, he could see progress everywhere. The hilly city began to take a semblance of shape. Teams were sent to eat on shifts to avoid chaos; consequently, many still worked diligently (and some not so diligently). The clusters of pirates crowded around little, skeletal structures looked liked a collection of bees working hard to build their hive.

 

“Finally!” “Meal time!” “I’m taking your share!” “Not if I take yours first.” “I’m so hungry.” “Seems like the Vengeance made out with lots of food.” “I can’t wait ‘til we get our farms started.” “I’m so hungry…” “Me first-”

 

A choir of happy chatter erupted as the squad of working pirates ran toward the beach to collect their rationed lunch. The sun shone brightly in the middle of the sky, beaming down without rest. Though sweat matted his hair to his forehead and sand baked stains littered his shirt, Guanlin felt content. It was a strange sensation, different, so foreign from any form of contentedness he’d ever known before. It was a simple life; not necessarily an ideal one at that, yet it had endeared itself to him.

 

“Guanlin, you coming or not?” Another young pirate by the name of Mingi asked. 

 

Guanlin shook himself out of his daze and answered with a smirk, “I was going slow to let you all eat first. Don’t want to overeat. Been watching my figure,” He joked, patting his nearly nonexistent belly. 

 

Even without a looking glass, Guanlin could tell his body had changed. His hip bones and collarbone felt pointier than before, and any semblance of babyish fat he’d donned was no longer. Muscles began pressing up beneath his skin, no doubt the result of the days of work he’d done.

 

“What? Got a pretty dress you wanna fit into for the ball?” Mingi snarked back. 

 

“How else am I to get a rich, powerful suitor?” Guanlin pantomimed fanning himself and batted his lashes. 

 

“Now, now, maybe you can find a nice, rich,  _ blind  _ man,” Another young pirate (named Wooyoung) sidles up to Guanlin with a snort. 

 

Guanlin laughed, firing back, “At least he won’t have to be blind and deaf like your suitor would be.”

 

“Oh,” Mingi added, “I wouldn’t worry about that. If someone wed Wooyoung they’d likely go deaf within the first year of marriage with how loud he is.”

 

“I am a  _ pleasure _ !” Wooyoung hollered as if to just illustrate their point.

 

“Trust me,  _ we know _ ,” Mingi bantered, “We do- and so does half the camp with how fucking loud you are!”

 

Guanlin snorted at that, practically doubling over. Instead, he stumbled into Mingi, clapping as he laughed at the other’s expense.

 

“Well who’s listening?!” Wooyoung fired back. “You perverts keep your ears to your damn selves. They’re tents for fuck’s sake!”

 

“Maybe you should bite the pillow, mate,” Guanlin added crassly with a grin. 

 

“You two are just  _ jealous _ , you don’t have any suitors- or whatever the lady equivalent is,” Wooyoung huffed, making a show of being galled. 

 

“Ladies don’t suit nobody, idiot,” Mingi guffawed. He paused for a second and turned to Guanlin, “Do they?”

 

“Wh- Hey that’s right, you lived in a castle, didn’t you?” Wooyoung’s face completely changed from impish ire to curiosity. “What’s it called? The- the lady version of a suitor.”

 

“I told you,” Mingi said insistently, “Ladies don’t suit-”

 

“It’s court,” Guanlin cut Mingi off. “They don’t court men. A man has to charm a lady of nobility and then get permission to begin courting her.” For some reason, talking about court life made his ears burn. It felt like recounting a shameful memory.

 

“I told you!” Mingi shot at Wooyoung. Guanlin thought the two would depart the subject but, unfortunately, they didn’t. The former concubine’s skin squirmed as he heard Mingi’s question: “So, what was it like? Living in a castle and all that?”

 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said, “You was a servant, right?”

 

“Uh-” Guanlin’s smile fell as memories flooded back to his mind.

 

He’d gone so long without remembering - really remembering - what it’d been like in Castle Jeon. The mainland and grandiose castle felt so, so far away. Guanlin realized, he wasn’t even sure how long it had been. Weeks, yes. Over a month? Maybe so. Was it nearing two months? No, he thought. Surely not yet.

 

Regardless, it felt like years already. He’d already acclimated himself so much to sea and salt, to endless sun and warm breezes. Lewd jokes and playful fights had replaced quiet study sessions and whispered mischief. Hammocks and hay had replaced plush goose feathers. The close company of dozens had replaced the strong arms of one man.

 

One man.

 

Before he could stop them, intrusive images played through Guanlin’s mind. The memories felt unreal, and replaying them in the brief moment that passed felt more like watching someone else’s life than his own. All too well he could feel the gentle caress of a calloused hand graze his cheek. Plush sheets wrapped around his undressed body as he slotted his lanky body against the well muscled one behind him. Sweet, hushed assurances tickled his ear before the lips speaking them moved down his earlobe, neck, and shoulder.

 

But none of it had been real - of this Guanlin reminded himself.

 

The boy receiving those saccharine affections was not him, but a slave; a doll upon which the impossible expectations of a warlord had been imposed. It wasn’t genuine. He had been held captive, kept as a plaything, some reminder of innocence to a man so twisted at such a young age.

 

Though it felt like forever, the memories passed in mere moments, and Guanlin finished his stunted thought, “It was… Quite different.” The words were true. By no means explicit, but true.

 

“Well, we know that! You were landlocked and everything!” Mingi replied with a hearty laugh. “I can’t imagine never seeing the ocean. God… And so many trees. And walls. And a real room to sleep in…”

 

“You make it sound luxurious,” Guanlin said, honest disbelief tinting his tone. A small pang of guilt struck him following. He knew his implication was dishonest. He  _ had  _ lived in the lap of luxury - not that they knew. Not that they needed to know.

 

“What were the servant’s quarters like?” Wooyoung asked, genuinely curious.

 

Anxiety struck Guanlin’s gut. The truth was: he did not know. He’d never actually ventured into the servant’s quarters in all his time there. The majority of his days had been spent studying or walking around. 

 

Guanlin frowned, “Small. Dark. The beds were just hay. Simple. They would… Put many to a room for the most part. Not all servants lived at the castle. Some lived at the nearby village.” He conjectured. Luckily, neither of his pirate cohorts cared much to question him. Instead, they spurred him on.

 

“What was it like? Just being there around all those people? All the fine, fancy folk?” Mingi asked.

 

“Well…” Guanlin searched for a way to tell the truth without telling the truth. “There are actually quite a lot of people our age. Castle Jeon is pretty young. Surprisingly so. I think the average age is below thirty which is… Sort of jarring, isn’t it?”

 

Wooyoung and Mingi both nodded. A hushed awe came over the two, and they listened attentively. When he’d been on the Vengeance, the crew had avoided talking to Guanlin about Castle Jeon. Guanlin had never known why. He assumed it had to do with something Captain Ong said. However, with all the crews mixed now, he finally came to realize that a lot of pirates are probably very curious. The former concubine had even heard that some of his crewmates were born on sea. They had never stepped foot on land for more than weeks at a time. It made sense that they had questions.

 

“What were the noble folk like?” Mingi asked, eyes boring into Guanlin in wait of an answer.

 

“I… Well, they were… Different. All very different. Some of them were actually very nice. Many were very handsome and pretty. They all have such proper manners, but even so you could be on the receiving end of some… Harsh words. Harsher actions. I suppose I was… Lucky?” Guanlin hesitated to say it, but he couldn’t deny it was true. He had been lucky. Though Jihoon’s smothering treatment hadn’t been the kindest, many Masters had subjected their wards to far worse. 

 

Wanting to get away from the subject of nobles, Guanlin digressed, “There- There were lots of fun servants our age, too. We made it okay for ourselves, I think. Made it better. We’d joke and laugh and play when we could. Talk shit about the high and mighty nobles. At the time, everything seemed alright. For awhile I was perfectly fine with my situation- with being… Trapped. But I see things differently now.” He shrugged.

 

“Wow,” Wooyoung pouted, “I guess I never thought about it, but you probably had friends, there. Didn’t you? You ever miss ‘em?”

 

Guanlin shook his head, “No, not really I-” He paused, “Well there was one. There was one friend I made who made me feel sort of… Normal. Like I wasn’t a c- servant.” A fond memory of playing around with Seonho flashed through his mind. “I think he’s alright, though. Not worried about him or anything.”

 

“Aw,” Mingi pursed his lips cutely. He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Guanlin’s shoulders. Making dramatic kissing noises, he cooed, “You’ve got us now. We’ll give you all the love your missing.”

 

Guanlin snorted, shoving Mingi away, “I’ll pass, thanks.” (“Ha!” Wooyoung laughed loudly.)

 

“You’re so mean!” Mingi fake pouted. 

 

When the spell of laughter that had overtaken the ambling trio settled, Mingi spoke again. He presented yet another needling question, this one even more uncomfortable than the last.

 

“Did you ever have to work for your sparring partner?” Mingi asked.

 

“Hm?” Guanlin’s heartbeat paused and his brows raised.

 

“Uh- That guy, over there,” Mingi gestured vaguely to a throng on the beach. Not far off to the side sat a very familiar stocky figure sitting on the sand by himself. “The soldier. What’s his name?”

 

“Jihoon,” Guanlin said. His eyes fixed on Jihoon. “It’s, um, Jihoon.”

 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung chimed in, “You two seem…” He paused, in thought. (Guanlin hated very much that the other was thinking about he and Jihoon’s relationship.) “Close.  _ Real  _ close.” He eyed Guanlin suspiciously.

 

The former concubine’s ears burned, and he stumbled to deter the other’s thought process,“Wh- No, it’s- it’s not like that, I-”

 

Unfortunately, Mingi saw fit to put forth his own theory,“You wanna…” Instead of using a word, he wiggled his eyebrows.

 

“God in heaven,” Guanlin muttered, reflexively hiding his hand in his face.

 

“Ah-ha!” Wooyoung clapped as if in victory, sidling up close to Guanlin to taunt him even more. “That’s what it is, innit?! Oh- So you’ve-”

 

Guanlin cut him off,“I have not!”

 

“But you want to,” Mingi attacked from the other side.

 

“N-No!”

 

“You stuttered- he stuttered, didn’t he?” Mingi asked Wooyoung.

 

Wooyoung nodded, “That was a stutter. He definitely stuttered.”

 

Guanlin sighed in exasperation, face and ears on fire from embarrassment, “You two are projecting on me is what it is.” He tried to misdirect them. “This is pure projection! You’re just mad ‘cause I got him to teach me swordsmanship.”

 

“Yeah cause you wanna sheath your sword-in-him,” Mingi said. He and Wooyoung explode into a fit of giggles, leaving Guanlin to stew in his pathetic shame.

 

“Alright, alright. Have you two had your laughs?” Guanlin asked, defeated.

 

Wooyoung managed to temper his laughs and present another question, “Okay, okay. But, seriously, I’m curious- Were you two close friends in the castle, too? Did you work for him? Clean his room and stuff? Oh- What was he like?”

 

Mingi stopped as well, reaching in front of Guanlin to smack Wooyoung, “Are you daft? Nobles and servants aren’t  _ friends _ , idiot. He didn’t live in a storybook.”

 

“Do I look like a fucking noble? How would I know what goes on in castles?!” Wooyoung shrugged.

 

“Of course he didn’t know the soldier,” Mingi replied, “He might’ve cleaned up after him or seen him. I heard that servants overhear lots,” The tall pirate glanced across the beach toward Jihoon. “I wonder what he was like back then… All high and mighty, no doubt.”

 

“Hm,” Wooyoung grunted, following the other’s gaze. “Yeah he’s a bit of a twat if you ask me. Thinks he’s better than us even though he’s still under watch. What do you think, Guanlin? Has he always been like that pompous or are us pirates just extra special?”

 

Guanlin sighed as he gazed at the other’s slumped form on the beach. The corners of his mouth reflexively wished to turn down, but he willed them not to. Giving a dismissive shrug, Guanlin responded:

 

“I don’t know. I only ever saw him passing in the halls.”

 

* * *

 

Crackling fire cast a warm glow across the Captains’ gathering camp near the top of the hill. The highest ranked members of the Armada had set up camp in what had once been a grand plaza just down the hill from Crescene’s large castle. Thankfully, the carefully laid stones of the plaza remained mostly intact in spite of the erosion and wear that the ocean brought. Large tents for lower officers had been spread out to take up the entire space, and the pirates had built a massive fire pit in the middle. Old cushions, logs, and large stones had been lugged around the thing to function as seats for dinner. Far from a classy court affair, but more than adequate for the swashbucklers who’d gotten used to dining on rocking boats.

 

“Mm- Pass that here.” “Are you already drunk, m’love?” “Is this seat taken?” “Can’t be day drunk if you don’t start early.” “Yes- here-” “Did you get a plate?” “I’m starving!” “No, you cannot sit next to me.”

 

Captains, first mates, and a few other high ranking officers milled about the general area. Some took seats around the fire while others retreated to their tents to eat. Lower crew dished out hardy rolls and portions of meat onto pewter plates and handed them to their officers. 

 

Ong Seongwoo sighed. Though sunlight had long stopped beaming down harshly, its heat had sunken into the ground and persisted. The Vengeance’s Captain wiped his brow as he approached the fire. Taeseob was due to meet him soon; their building crew had decided to dedicate a bit of extra time to finish a task, and he’d volunteered to wrap up. That left Captain Ong to brave the company of his peers alone.

 

The Captain bit his lip nervously, anxiousness bubbling in his stomach. It was not that he disliked his peers. On the contrary, he adored and respected many of them. However, the more time went on, the more uneasy he felt about hiding things from them. Paranoia gradually wrapped its arms around Seongwoo, constricting him more and more with each passing day. He knew for certain that some people suspected something - though he couldn’t tell what “something” was. Others had let snide little comments slip out here and there, utterances that struck a tad too close for comfort.

 

As the settlement operation began its transition into a sort of routine, things had calmed down slightly. Chaos and craziness lessened day by day, and the resulting semi-calm left Seongwoo entirely too much time to think, reflect, and reminisce. The Captain had thought he’d stuffed all of those memories down on his ship. He’d hoped that all the time, the tears, the sleep and the drinking would have been enough. Yet those stubborn memories and contemplations enduringly remained. The little quips of his peers did little to help, especially since many of his underlings still expressed such curiosity and wonder toward his secretive mission.

 

Overall, it left the Captain feeling rather prickly and worried. The rational part of his brain knew it silly, but he couldn’t help himself.

 

“Captain Ong!” One of the lower crew members greeted Seongwoo when he approached for a plate.

 

“Good evening,” Ong greeted cordially.

 

“Let me get you a plate… Here you are!” The young woman extended a pewter plate heaped with roasted meat, a roll, and an assortment of cooked vegetables. The fragrance wafting off of the plate filled his nose with herbaceous, earthy notes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t revel in the pleasing aroma for long, for the woman spoke again. She leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell a soul, but there’s some extra meat for you there,” She winked, “Since we’ve got you to thank for all this.”

 

“A-ah,” Seongwoo choked out a chuckle. “Th-thank you. Thank you then.” He nodded politely before shuffling away. He searched the fire, hoping that, perhaps, Taeseob had already gotten there. Unfortunately, his first mate - the one person to whom he could speak freely - had yet to arrive. Even more unfortunately, someone else had noticed him.

 

“Ah, Seongwoo!” Captain Siwon smiled warmly from a log that had been set down for seating by the fire. His first mate, Leeteuk, nodded toward the Vengeance’s Captain as well. “Come, come,” The pirate priest gestured to an open spot next to him, “Sit.”

 

“O-Oh,” Seongwoo smiled sheepishly, “I was going to wait for Taeseob to arrive. Surely he’ll be-”

 

“Nonsense,” The priest shook his head, waving him over more insistently, “Come. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

 

Ong almost frowned but managed to stop himself, “Alright, then.” He joined the Father’s side hesitantly, eyeing him in wait for his inquiries. Nervousness ran down Ong’s chest and into his stomach; it even travelled down to his toes and fidgeting fingers. Regardless, he kept his composure externally. “What is it you want to discuss?”

 

“Leeteuk,” Siwon turned to his first mate, “Fetch us some wine, if you would please.” The first mate nodded and departed without a word. “Fetch us some wine” sounded suspiciously like code for “go away, we need to be alone”. The implication made Ong’s stomach churn.

 

Turning back to Seongwoo, Father Siwon stated, “I wanted to ask you about Daniel.”

 

Seongwoo’s heart dropped, “D-Daniel?”

 

“Yes, Daniel. You know, the prisoner. The former King, I believe he was.”

 

Of course Ong knew who Daniel was. He’d been laboring intensely for months to forget about Daniel. The man haunted his dreams and plagued his thoughts during waking hours.

 

“Right,” Seongwoo answered flatly. “What, um- What is it about Daniel that concerns you? Is he- is he not following orders?” Ong bit the inside of his cheek worriedly.

 

“No, no! Nothing of the sort,” The Father said, chuckling warmly. “He’s been quite good, actually.” Seongwoo couldn’t determine if those words relieved him or not. He waited for Siwon to elaborate. 

 

“I was simply curious about his character prior to his coming here,” Siwon clarified. “Would you say Daniel was a particularly pious man? Was he a man of faith?”

 

Seongwoo blinked once. Then twice. Then three times before the question finally processed. A man of faith? Ong had to wonder: why the hell did Father Siwon want to know such a thing? Inspecting the other’s face, all Ong could see in Siwon’s expression was pure curiosity. Why the hell was he curious about a damn prisoner? What did it matter?

 

Realizing he’d taken a noticeably long pause, Seongwoo stuttered, “I- I- Um-”

 

“My apologies, Seongwoo. I understand that you likely did not have intimate knowledge of the former King. But… You did spy on him, right?”

 

The word “intimate” practically caused Ong to fall out of his seat; he felt almost lightheaded. Mind reeling, he answered, “Y-yes you are correct. I spied on him and did gain his trust, but we were never… Intimately acquainted. However, to answer your question: he never seemed particularly pious. He was… Rather kind, though. I suppose you could say he liked to live scripture rather than study or preach it. I cannot say faith played a very large role in his decision making as a monarch. Does that help?”

 

Siwon nodded, digesting the information before answering, “Yes, thank you. You see, recently I have decided to take him under my wing-”

 

“You  _ what _ ?!” Ong blurted out loudly. Almost the entire congregation of hungry officers halted to take a look at the the two. Seongwoo cleared his throat loudly before lowering his voice, “I- I’m sorry I mean- you what?” He asked more quietly when everyone had gone back to eating.

 

Father Siwon, seemingly unphased by Ong’s reaction, explained, “I have decided to take Daniel under my wing. The other day he approached me privately begging for salvation. He wants to repent.”

 

Seongwoo gripped his plate of food (which he hadn’t touched) with white knuckles. Repent?

  
Daniel wanted to repent?

 

For what?

 

Suddenly, tormenting ideas stampeded through Seongwoo’s head. Without warning the flood gates had opened, and every little doubt and evil thing he could possibly think of ran amock. 

 

Did Daniel regret being with Seongwoo? Did he feel guilty for what they had done? Was that what he wanted to repent for? Did he truly have such remorse that he begged a priest to save him? Did Daniel feel  _ disgusted  _ by Seongwoo?

 

“He wants to… Repent?” Ong asked dubiously.

 

Siwon nodded, “Yes, I was surprised too. It seems that having been stripped of everything, he wants to maintain the one thing man has: his faith. That is why I asked you if he had been pious before.”

 

“I… See. Well, as I said before, he wasn’t especially faithful.”

 

“I understand. Many people turn to God when there is nothing left,” Siwon nodded. 

 

“Mhm,” Seongwoo nodded in agreement, biting back the question on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Though it is unfortunate that many must be subject to terrible misfortune before turning to faith, that is no reason for us to turn him away,” Siwon said.

 

“Right.”

 

“You see, I had my doubts. I still do, but I wish to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

 

“Mhm-” Don’t ask him, Ong begged himself internally. Do not ask him!

 

“I’ve instructed my crew to do the same and to treat him less severely.”

 

Don’t ask him, “That’s very gracious of you, Father.” Ong replied.

 

“In truth I admire Daniel’s bravery. Many would simply grovel and accept their circumstances. It takes quite a man to come forward and ask for help, for forgiveness.”

 

“Mm. Quite,” Seongwoo suppressed a scowl. Daniel? Asking for forgiveness? He’d done no such thing after he captured Seongwoo and kept him a slave for months. Nor after he cursed the Captain and fucked him until he bled. A shiver ran down Seongwoo’s spine as he recalled that surreal, grim memory. Again, he urged himself: don’t ask him.

 

“I’ve seen fit to work him rigorously, in both studying scripture and day labor…”

 

“So how is Daniel doing? Is he alright?” Seongwoo asked. Damn! He cursed himself. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He wasn’t even sure why he had asked. Daniel despised him. There was nothing there, nothing left between them but the ghost of a physical attraction.

 

“Very well, actually. Surprisingly so. He takes the workload without complaint and has a good intellect for interpreting scripture. Clearly, he’s educated,” Siwon said, an amicable smile crossing his lips.

 

A strange jolt of irritation shot through Seongwoo. Why was the Father lavishing such praise upon the prisoner?

 

“O-oh, is he?” Seongwoo let out a wry laugh. He grabbed the first thing on his plate he could reach - his roll - and stuffed it into his mouth. “Hm.”

 

“You said he was never particularly pious, but he has a… Godliness about him. Genuinely so,” Siwon added almost as if thinking about Daniel aloud.

 

“Mm. Mhm,” Ong grunted with a mouth full of bread.

 

“As I said, I find it very courageous of him to approach me for help. When I speak to him about his prayers and goals, he wishes to release his earthly anger. His efforts have appeared most genuine. Speaking to him sometimes, he just- he seems so- so desperate. Lost.”

 

“Hm,” Seongwoo grunted again before swallowing down the hunk of bread he’d bitten off. “Lost? Really, now?”

 

“Yes, very. Why during one of our first nights together he broke down and wept. He was absolutely overcome with a feeling of loss.”

 

“Nights together?”

 

“Why- Yes, of course. He and I both have duties during the day, we must do our bible study at night. Though, I must say the candle light makes reading rather challenging,” Siwon mused. The Father appeared utterly unaffected by his own words. Ong supposed he oughtn’t be surprised. To a kind, giving soul like Siwon, making time in the night to help a lost, broken soul was his godly duty. To Seongwoo, however, it made alarm bells clang noisily in his head.

 

Daniel despised Seongwoo. No doubt that hatred extended to his people. Why the hell would he willingly spend his nights with one of the Armada’s highest ranking Captains, then? Surely some foul play was at hand, some sinister plot. Yet, in spite of the prisoner’s explicit threats, Seongwoo struggled to picture the man actually plotting anything. Though he loathed to remember it, the younger man’s puppy eyes and dimpled smile came to mind. Daniel cowered in fear from flies, and he climbed trees. He didn’t plot.

 

Or so, Ong didn’t think he did.

 

Then again, the man had transformed into quite a different person since they were in Castle Jeon. Seongwoo frowned. 

 

“So his… Bible studies are going well?” Ong tried to sound minorly curious, as if this entire thing wasn’t consuming his mind as he spoke.

 

“Excellent,” Siwon nodded with a dimpled grin. “You know what makes him a fantastic student?”

 

Seongwoo did not want to know, “Hm?” He asked inquisitively again.

 

“He’s a very curious soul,” The Father replied, “He asks loads of questions- I mean, makes us run long, late nights, but I believe it’s worth it. The long hours of effort are most satisfying.”

 

“Satisfying… Long, late nights?” Seongwoo squeaked. Before he could say anything else suspicious or pathetic sounding, he shoved more bread into his mouth. Part of him hoped he would choke on it to avoid this conversation. 

 

“That’s the thing about the Lord’s work, Seongwoo,” The Father said, “It is never done. It doesn’t sleep nor fret over early mornings.”

 

Thoughts whipped and whirred through Seongwoo’s head, ranging from sinister to perverse. What was Daniel’s angle? What did he want with Father Siwon? Was he plotting or genuine? Why did they have to go so late at night? Was Daniel attracted to Father Siwon? Why did the Father have such blind faith in the prisoner’s good will? What if Daniel is up to something? Does Daniel intend to kill the Father when he doesn’t suspect it? What would he gain from that? Why Father Siwon? Why not him? What about him? Did Daniel still think about Seongwoo at all? Did he really want to “let go of anger”? Why was Father Siwon telling Ong all of this?

 

“Hm,” Seongwoo answered, mouth full of bread. He swallowed again, throat actually hurting from how unnecessarily large the piece had been. “That’s very righteous of you, Father.”

 

“No, no. Please, do not thank me,” Father Siwon chuckled mirthfully. “I’m merely a vessel for God’s will. He wants to save this man’s soul, I can feel it. Kang Daniel is a good person, I can tell he has a good, pure soul. He will be reborn as a man of christ.”

 

“You don’t know him,” Seongwoo snapped. Even he himself didn’t believe the venom-filled words that had just spewed from his mouth.

 

Father Siwon’s demeanor immediately changed. An aura of malice wrapped around him as he squinted his eyes, his thick brows furrowing.

 

“I beg your pardon?” The senior Captain said.

 

“I- I simply mean… I-” Seongwoo sighed, trying to collect himself, to come down from the unforeseen explosion that had just erupted out of him, “Father, I think it is incredibly admirable of you to give D- the prisoner such regard, but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he is capable of. To simply just- throw himself at you like this. To beg? He sounds desperate, like he doesn’t know what he wants. Perhaps he seeks your company and consideration for reasons other than faith. He could be playing-”

 

“Seongwoo,” Siwon cut him off. His voice sounded calm, but it terrified Seongwoo no less. Hearing the father’s cool tone felt like watching black, angry storm clouds loom on the horizon. They looked serene but within them a fury brewed. The Father continued, now that he had the other’s attention:

 

“Is it not you that made a case for saving these lost souls? Did you not put yourself on the line to propose that we reform them? Bring them on as if they are our own? We feed them, clothe them, give them honest work and a place to sleep. Was it not  _ you  _ who wanted it to be so?” His voice sounded like soft thunder in the distance.

 

Seongwoo, chagrined, submitted, “Y-yes, sir. I did-”

 

“Yet now - when one of these people who  _ you  _ had advocated for, wants redemption - you wish to drag him? You wish to cast suspicion upon him?” The Father let silence hang between the two for a few moments, allowing his words to wash over Seongwoo like a torrential wave.

 

Finally, the older man’s brows unknit themselves, and he heaves a disappointed sigh, “Seongwoo, you are young. I understand you still have many doubts in this life, and you believe you know all,” Siwon said, much calmer. “Humble yourself, and, please, have faith in your fellow man.” With those words, the Father stood up and clapped Seongwoo on the shoulder and stood up. 

 

Seongwoo watched wordlessly as the senior’s tall, broad form departed, soon disappearing in the darkness. Shame and ire burned in the Captain’s chest as he sat in silence. If only he could make sense of it, then he would feel some sort of comfort. Yet, he couldn’t. His mind simply led him in circles, raking up more painful memories each time he tried to figure out Daniel. Ong knew he oughtn’t, but part of him genuinely wished he did have faith in Daniel. But he didn’t. 

 

As of late, he didn’t have faith in anything.

 

“Evening Captain,” A familiar voice roused Ong from his brooding. He looked up to see Taeseob standing with a plate of his own and two pewter cups. “Leeteuk told me to give you one of these.” He extended his hand with the cup.

 

Ong nodded obligingly and gladly took it. He didn’t even wait for the other to sit down before pouring half of it down his throat. Red wine. Bitter. Alcoholic. Good.

 

“What were you two talking about?” Taeseob asked as he shimmied into a spot next to Ong. 

 

“Oh, you saw that?” Seongwoo frowned.

 

“I did. That’s why I didn’t take a seat earlier. Though he seemed to sort of storm off. You didn’t…” Taeseob’s tone took on a hushed awe, “You didn’t piss him off, did you?”

 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Seongwoo replied. “Perhaps at another time, but… But not now, please.”

 

Taeseob studied Seongwoo for a quiet few instants. The First Mate nodded knowingly before shrugging it off and moving onto a new topic.

 

“That’s fine by me. My life is  _ far  _ more interesting, anyways,” He joked. Ong let out a chuckle; the quip was meager but appreciated nonetheless. 

 

Taeseob grinned and began spinning an exaggerated tale, “So, one of my workers today wandered off into the forest and thought he’d fancy himself a snack of mushrooms…”

 

Seongwoo laughed, gradually cheering up bit by bit. Though his nerves stubbornly adhered to the inside of his chest, their severity lessened. Listening to Taeseob’s account reassured Seongwoo of something:

 

He  _ did  _ have faith in his fellow man. 

 

His First Mate, Sungwoon, Guanlin and Captain Yunho…

 

Daniel was just different.

 

* * *

 

The West Chapel of Castle Jeon did not boast the intricately carved columns or vaulted ceilings that many others in the place did. Less than a dozen rows of dark wooden pews fit into the small room. The windows near the ceiling were rather small, making candlelight the primary source of illumination. The West Chapel had been the first constructed. It was much simpler, almost all of the details painted as opposed to carved. In combination with the low light, the aged paintings around the walls and dark wooden details made the entire place seem to wrap around a person.

 

Perhaps that was why Advisor Hwang had sought it out as his place of prayer. The obscurification felt almost protective.

 

“...nd at the hour of our death, amen,” Advisor Hwang Minhyun mumbled into his clenched hands.

 

“That’s one too many,” The deep yet soft voice of his concubine echoed from behind him, by the doorway. Though one could not bar others from entering a place of worship, Advisor Hwang had positioned his imposing concubine so as to dissuade any approaching. The lack of grandiosity kept the West Chapel out of most courtiers’ favor. In spite of that fact, Duke Hwang could not shake the paranoia that’d set into his skin months prior.

 

“Hm?” Minhyun grunted, looking over his shoulder. He thumbed his prayer beads idly.

 

“You said one too many. You’re only supposed to do ten,” Baekho responded. Typically it would be galling to be corrected by someone so lowly, but in recent times, Minhyun felt his ward one of the few humans he could trust. That in combination with his other skills gave the well built man liberties no common servant would ever receive.

 

“Right,” Minhyun conceded, shoulders sagging. His knees felt sore from kneeling so long. Glancing down at the gold beads in his hand, he realized: he’d lost count. Heaving a sigh, his hands dropped into his lap, and he slumped.

 

“Master- Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell again?” Baekho stepped forward with concern.

 

The Advisor shook his head, “No, I- It is not that.” He paused briefly, but spoke again. “It is not my body that is most weak.”

 

Minhyun’s eyes fell upon the massive statue behind the West Chapel’s altar. Perhaps another reason that the chapel did not get many visitors. For the man nailed to the huge wooden cross looked jarringly real. Rusty red paint dripped down from the nails impaling his hands and feet; tiny streams had even been carefully painted trickling from the thick, long thorns that jabbed into his brow. Scraggly hair fell down his shoulders looking more like tangled branches than human hair. The body appeared gaunt, every bone in his body pronounced, shadowed with ashy greys and highlighted in a sickly green tone. Most horrific was the expression: jaw slack and glassy eyes pointed to the heaven, tears streaming down his ghastly cheekbones.

 

“Do you think he regretted it?” The Advisor asked suddenly.

 

“Hm?” Baekho grunted.

 

“Do you think God’s son regretted dying such an agonizing, painful death in pursuit of power?”

 

“Pursuit of… Power?”

 

“He ascended to the heavens to be one with God, but in his final moments… Do you suppose it was worth it? Could he really forget the suffering he’d endured? The sacrifices? The things he’d done as a man?” Minhyun paused, considering the statue again, “Was the price worth the power after all?”

 

“What inclines you to ask such things, Master?”

 

“I feel as if… I am paying a price, Baekho. I- I start to wonder- to doubt myself. This is not something I have… I have ever struggled with before…”

 

“Questioning yourself?” The concubine replied, more out of obligation than care.

 

“I am uncertain if I… If I regret what I have done for power. If it shall be worth it all, or if it shall-” He looked at the statue again, “-nail me to a cross and crown me with thorns.”

 

“You only express remorse due to your failure,” The newly crowned King’s voice rang out from the entrance to the chapel. Minhyun jumped, startled, and glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes. His heart’s pace doubled.

 

Nonchalantly, his majesty continued,“Cheap sellswords are no way to go after a King. Let alone one with a warrior at his side.”

 

“A what?” The Advisor’s face contorted with confusion. “I- I mean to greet you, your majesty. Good afternoon.” He scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply, a clammy sweat forming on his skin.

 

“Good afternoon to you, Advisor. I just happened to see you in these parts, thought I would check on my most trusted advisor. Nevermind my musings,” King Daehwi looked toward the life-sized statue that stood behind the altar. Pursing his lips, he crudely remarked, “Quite an eyesore, isn’t he?”

 

Minhyun’s eyes darted between the statue and his majesty, quickly nodding in agreement, “Yes it is quite a- quite a harsh visual to look upon during prayer.”

 

“Yes, quite,” The King remarked. “And - if I may inquire - what brought you to gaze upon something so hideous for your reflections?”

 

“I like the privacy of this place,” Minhyun replied. “Praying in solitude is peaceful.”

 

“Fair enough,” King Daehwi nodded. For a second, Minhyun thought that their exchange had concluded. However, his majesty added one last remark, “In my opinion, you ought to  _ sing praises _ to God that your sloppy, impulsive attempt on his majesty’s life did not compromise the grander plan... Why not pray about that?”

 

Ice cold daggers of anxiety pierced the Duke’s chest. King Daehwi captured his Advisor’s gaze, speaking volumes with the mere look.

 

When the brief spell broke, his majesty primly turned on his heel and departed. Duke Hwang felt his breath hitch. It remained trapped in his breast until the echo of King Daehwi’s boots against tile finally receded.

 

“Baekho,” Minhyun said, “I believe I have gotten the answer I came for.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Baekho replied obligingly.

 

Without another word, the Advisor rose to his feet and left the chapel. Fear, dread, and ire brewed in his chest. He clenched his fist, brow furrowing and jaw locking with increasing pique. 

 

Damn him, the Advisor thought, picturing the man who’d put him in his position, the man who had ruined everything. One final thought passed his mind as he crossed the threshold from holy place to castle:  _ curse that whore _ .


	15. On Behalf of Lady Hyerim

Another early dusk fell over the shoreside of Crescene. Ong had gotten used to it, the way shadows descended down the hill early into the sun’s descent. Torches flickered along the cascading streets of the city. They illuminated the streets like fireflies across the summer skies.

 

Summer.

 

The season approached quickly. Remembering all that had happened in the past months, the past year’s summer felt so, so far away to Seongwoo. The season had been in a similar state of transition when he’d been contacted first, offered the foolish King on a silver platter in exchange for an island. Ong had thought long and hard about the decision. He’d consulted with the highest members of the Armada and his confidants extensively. It had seemed entirely too convenient, too good to be true. 

 

It wasn’t until experiencing it that he’d realized how wrong he had been. Being another person had put a toll on him he could not describe; however, that paled in comparison to the fact that, though his identity had been obscured, his feelings had been completely genuine and real.

 

Paranoia still lived in a deep crevice of his brain. He wondered just how he had gotten out of his situation relatively unscathed. The emotional scars he would bare for a long time, perhaps. A few physical ones still stained his skin as well. Yet, no wool had been pulled from over his eyes. No trick card played in the last second nor hidden dagger pressed to his throat.

 

He had done just what he’d set out to do.

 

So, he queried, why did he still feel weight upon his heart?

 

“You look tired, Captain,” A voice drifted into Seongwoo’s ear. The Captain blinked away the daze that’d overcome him and acknowledged the man beside him - Yesung, the Quartermaster.

 

“O-Oh, do I?” Seongwoo replied.

 

“Yes,” Yesung answered frankly. “You’re far too young to have such a look about you.”

 

“Am I?”

 

Yesung huffed, patting Ong roughly on the back, “Yes. You’ve looked very tired since docking, actually.”

 

“We’re all tired, are we not?”

 

“Physically exhausted, yes. However you, sir, look… Different.”

 

Seongwoo sighed, “And if I am tired, what do you propose I do to amend that? Sleep more? Because that’s hardly an option.”

 

“I’ve a feeling your fatigue stems from something that robs you of your sleep. Perhaps you should address that.”

 

“I will think about that upon my next period of quiet introspection,” Seongwoo replied, rolling his eyes. “What’s got you walking up the hill anyways?” He tried to change the subject. “Don’t you lot stop counting when it gets too dark?”

 

“Perhaps men of weaker constitution than I,” Yesung chortles.

 

“You’ll go blind from the strain!”

 

“Maybe so, but I’ll know I’ve done my duty to the best of my abilities.”

 

“And I suppose your ascent has nothing to do with dinner starting.”

 

“A starving man’s work is mediocre at best! Want to join me by the fire?”

 

Seongwoo shook his head, “No, thank you. I have to make another stop before I eat.”

 

“Oh? Where at?”

 

Ong’s brows furrow, “It’s nothing worth noting, I assure you. Just some dull checks and balances.”

 

“Hm,” Yesung grunted. The Quartermaster accepted the answer, not interested enough to pry. The two made smalltalk as they ascended the shabby steps until eventually breaking off. Yesung continued toward the plaza where camp and food had been set up, Seongwoo stayed behind.

 

His eyes fell upon the tall spires of the mission. He wondered if Father Siwon had left to dinner yet. It seemed easiest for the man to be absent when he entered. Upon the few other instances in which he’d stumbled into his holiness, the man had never failed to update Seongwoo on his “lost sheep”. 

 

Lost my ass, Seongwoo always thought to himself. The only thing Kang Daniel had lost was his mind. Kang Daniel had no intention of making nice, let alone “being saved” or whatever ideas he’d spun into the Father’s head. Though Ong did not wish to be disingenuous to Father Siwon’s intuition, he felt certain that the man’s judgment had been wrong. The remembrance of Daniel’s fury - his borderline bloodlust - had imprinted itself greatly upon Seongwoo. Surely, that man was not capable of any reformation.

 

The mission's heavy door groaned with Seongwoo’s entrance. The Captain strode in coolly and scanned the chapel for any presence. It was empty, for which he felt grateful. His steps echoed loudly in the empty chapel as he strode toward the door to the mission’s backside.

 

“Evening, Captain.” “Good evening, sir.” “Evening, Captain Ong.” A chorus of holy crew greeted Seongwoo politely. They all appeared to be milling about, wrapping up work that they needed daylight to do.

 

“Father Siwon is… At dinner?” Seongwoo ventured to ask. He hoped he did not sound too suspicious.

 

“Yes, sir,” One of the workers replied. “Did you have an appointment with him?”

 

“No, no, not at all,” Ong rushed to correct the other’s line of thinking. “Just making sure he’d gone to eat. We’re all working very hard these days, it is easy to forget ourselves.”

 

“True, that. Then what business do you have here- I- I mean to say: what can I do for you, Captain?”

 

Seongwoo puffed out his chest and put on an authoritative, confident air, “I actually do have an appointment this evening. His holiness told me one of you would be able to assist me.”

 

“Anything, sir.”

 

“I need to speak with the prisoner working here.”

 

“The prisoner? Oh- You mean Daniel, yes?” The worker grins. “He’s pretty nice- I mean, for a Kang dog anyways. I think he’ll do well when the dust settles. We’ll miss his help once everything’s finished up around here.”

 

Seongwoo tried not to roll his eyes, “That’s very… Informative to hear. Thank you. Yes, I have some questions to ask him. You see, I am assessing the reformation progress of our guests. I want to assure that they do not pose a threat to the good people of this island. Would you kindly let me into his cell? Or- Better yet, please give me a key. I assure everyone will be safe with him under my watch.”

 

“Yes, Captain!” The worker chirped before trotting off toward Father Siwon’s study. Ong thanked God for the good will and gullibility of his holiness’s crew. The worker returned expediently and handed the key over. Seongwoo almost felt guilty for fooling the person, but his affairs with a prisoner were hardly anyone’s concern. While, yes, Ong conceded a thread of personal skepticism motivated his visit, he also knew that a potential plot on the part of Daniel could affect others as well. It genuinely concerned him to think about. Seongwoo prayed that any sort of vendetta-fueled plot Daniel had limited its crosshairs to him and him alone.

 

Seongwoo took a deep breath as he approached the heavy door at the back of the mission. He lifted his hand to rap on the door but withdrew it. He did not need to knock. He was the one who had the power, the control, not Daniel. Reminding himself of that, Seongwoo opened the door unceremoniously, shutting it behind him softly. The last thing he needed was interruptions.

 

Daniel had been laying on his mattress with his eyes closed, but upon hearing the door he’d started to lift his head.

 

Blinking his eyes open, he started speaking genially, “Pardon me, did you need-” His words stopped. He sat up and froze, his mouth hanging ajar with words he’d not spoken. He looked shocked, but not angry.

 

“Expecting someone else?” Seongwoo asked frigidly. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms.

 

“A-ah, yes, I, um, was,” Daniel sat upright a bit more properly and rubbed the back of his nape sheepishly - the perfect, disarming display of his boyish charms. “Did Father Siwon send you?”

 

“I thought I’d drop in myself. Check on you,” Seongwoo replied. He watched the prisoner like a hawk did its prey.

 

“I see,” Daniel forced a tight-lipped smile, and his eyes darted to the floor. “Well, here I am.” He gestured to his tiny cell.

 

“So you are.” 

 

Seongwoo let the comment float for awhile, hoping for some elaboration on the man’s activities or condition. He gets no such thing. Instead, what he is given is silence. Very awkward silence. The quiet between them ballooned as seconds turn into minutes, and anxiety writhed in Ong’s chest. He waited for something, anything. A psychotic break, perhaps - or at least another question. Still, whether out of stubborness or a lack of ideas, neither said a word.

 

When it’d become too much to bare, Seongwoo broke. Just being in Daniel’s presence made his skin prickle with discomfort, and he felt increasingly eager to bolt out of the suffocating little cell.

 

“What are you doing?” Seongwoo asked clippedly.

 

“I’m sorry?” Daniel’s eyebrows raised with inquiry.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I- I apologize, I’m not certain I understand to what you are referring t-”

 

“Here. In the chapel. With Father Siwon. What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?”

 

“Oh,” Daniel chuckled sheepishly, and the gesture made his charming dimples pop up. Damn him, Ong cursed internally. The prisoner elaborated, “He is teaching me scripture. I am… In the process of finding myself again. You see, ever since, well, losing everything, I have felt a bit-”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard what you’re doing,” Seongwoo cut him off. He didn’t buy it, not for a second. More than bias tipped him off to Daniel’s lurking agenda. The man had never been a very adept liar - at least in Seongwoo’s eyes. While the people of Kang court swooned over him (at least, the ones who did not despise him), Seongwoo could tell when he was being dishonest. Daniel was too calm, too eager to talk, and his mannerisms to overly ingratiating. “You’re a very servile sheep, from what I’ve heard.”

 

Daniel let out another laugh, this one wry, reflexive, “Is that so? I’m glad that people have positive things to say, then.”

 

“Interesting considering that you very explicitly threatened me weeks ago. You also mentioned that you ‘are not the most pious man’ - your words.”

 

“People change, Captain,” Daniel answered meekly.

 

“Forgive me if I find it hard to believe you’ve had a change of heart after threatening to kill me- and, well, almost finishing the task.”

 

“You’re right. It- it is hard to believe. I’ve not yet had the chance to apologize…” Daniel paused. His eyes scuttled around ever so slightly - an indicator of his nerves. An indicator of dishonesty. Seongwoo knew he was starting to drive the man into a corner. However, he needed more than dancing pupils, he needed a confession, a reason.

 

“Apologize for what? The threats? Or strangling me?”

 

“All of it. Everything.”

 

“Everything? Does that include the part where you kept me as a palace pet for some months?”

 

“I have had a lot of time to think, to reflect. I’ve committed many sins, especially against y-”

 

“That doesn’t sound like an apology,” Seongwoo interjected venomously. 

 

Daniel’s lips pressed shut into a thin line momentarily. His eyes looked dark, though perhaps it was merely a trick of the light. Seongwoo watched closely, trying to discern what brewed beneath those dark orbs.

 

“Seongwoo-”

 

“Captain Seongwoo,” Ong corrected him just to rile him. Every little jab at the other’s composure would eventually pay off.

 

“R-right. Captain Seongwoo,” Daniel clenched and unclenched his fits in his lap before looking Ong in the eye, “I owe you an apology.”

 

“For…” Ong gestured for the to go on. He swore the other’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.

 

“For the threats I made to you and your people. It is unholy to harbor-”

 

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Seongwoo growled. He couldn’t stomach the fakery any longer. No doubt, Daniel was stubbornly hiding something, but prolonged time in the other’s company made Ong ill. He decided interrogation could wait. The Captain turned to the door and reached out toward the handle.

 

“Wait!” Daniel called after him.

 

“Why should I? You’re clearly reformed or, more likely, not interested in divulging whatever the hell it is you’re hiding.”

 

“Wait, I-”

 

Ong swung the door open angrily, “Don’t think I don’t have an eye on you.”

 

“Seongw- Captain, wait, I-”

 

“Have a good night Daniel,” He takes a step out.

 

“Wait, Captain, you’re right. I- I am hiding something!” Daniel exclaimed.

 

Seongwoo halted immediately. He tried to wipe the smug satisfaction off of his face as he stepped back in, shutting the door behind him quietly. Once again he took his position against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in inquiry.

 

“You admit you are hiding something?” Ong asked in disbelief.

 

“Y-yes,” Daniel replied wearily.

 

“Genuinely? You truly confess to having an- an agenda?”

 

“Yes, I-” Daniel’s voice sounded weak and shaky. “I do.” He nibbled on his lip nervously and looked Seongwoo in the eye.

 

“And why are you now so suddenly motivated to tell me this?”

 

“B-because it… It weighs most heavily on my heart, Seongwoo.”

 

Seongwoo narrowed his eyes, “And this is… I mean to say, you don’t intend to spout scripture at me, do you?”

 

Daniel’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh, “I- No. No, S- Captain. I…” His fingers twitched, and he practically abused his lower lip. What, Ong wondered, was the man struggling with?

 

“You… What, exactly? You mean to say you haven’t had some great divine awakening? Is that what this is?”

 

“No- I mean yes- I mean- let me… I-” Daniel frowned. “Talking to you has always been so difficult for me.”

 

“What?” The word dropped dumbly from Seongwoo’s mouth. He can’t help but briefly recall a few fumbled interactions between the two in their early days of meeting.

 

“I- You were right in your assertions. I… I do have an agenda,” Daniel finally confessed. “But it is not the one you think. I- I have lost everything at your hand and yet I- I-” The prisoner snatched Seongwoo’s gaze with his own and spoke earnestly. “The one thing I have been unable to lose is my feelings for you.”

 

Stabbing, agonizing pain pierced Seongwoo’s chest. No, he thought. No, no, no. He’d done everything to make Daniel hate him. He had antagonized, mocked, and taunted him. He’d taken his loved ones across the sea, away from everything they know. He had usurped the man thoroughly and sworn up and down that his affections were all dramatized. How, Ong wondered, how the hell could a man like that still love him? He practically pitied the prisoner. It simply did not seem viable.

 

“No,” Seongwoo blurted out. He had no idea what to say, but the single syllable denial did not seem quite right.

 

“Trust me,” Daniel said, voice dripping with dread, “It is not for lack of effort. I… I thought surrendering myself to- to loathing would allow me to be rid of my feelings. When that did not work, I turned to God- tried to be new. But seeing you in front of me, looking every bit as beautiful as you did when I first laid eyes upon you… I know my efforts are futile. No amount of scripture can suffocate the- the latent affection I have for you.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Seongwoo responded. His heart writhed painfully in his chest, and he pressed his nails into his palms to keep the tears at bay. “You threatened me and my people. You  _ said things- _ ”

 

“I was hurt, Seongwoo! I was heartbroken! I- I still am.”

 

“I have hurt you! I’ve- For God’s sake, man, you are a prisoner.  _ I  _ did that! You expect me to believe this?”

 

“And I hurt you! I- I understand now,” Daniel insisted. “I understand everything. I- I see why you did what you did.”

 

“No, you said-”

 

“I mean it! I see it now- everything. Your people are kind and deserving of a home. To see their faces filled with hope and- and hear their stories about how they’d spent only weeks on land, in one place, before this… I know why you did what you did for your people. I would do it, too.”

 

“You did not seem as eager to understand my perspective prior,” Seongwoo replied, his chest and throat burning with ire.

 

“I… I know,” Daniel’s gaze fixed onto the ground, “And for that, I truly apologize. You had told me yourself: I lacked perspective. I refused to see it at the time, but I- God, I am sorry Seongwoo. Er- Captain.”

 

“Oh- You’re sorry now?” Seongwoo scoffed.

 

“I apologize not just for- for my bitter words or assault, but for everything ever since the beginning. For keeping you - as you said - as a palace pet. For not standing up for you. For allowing you to endure the things you did at the palace and then having the gall to loathe you for finding your people a home.”

 

Seongwoo opened his mouth to retort, but not a word came out. He knew not what to say. What was there to say? After all, Kang Daniel had just managed to tell Seongwoo everything he had ever wanted to hear. It felt unreal to hear those things from the other’s lips, and, for an instant, Ong wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing. The briefest of brief fantasies played out in his head: a fantasy in which they made amends right then and there, where Daniel agreed to pay his penance and turn over a new leaf. They could start a life together, Seongwoo thought. With the favor Daniel gained, perhaps his people could see him in a decent light with time. He indulged that little mental image, picturing them walking along the street hand in hand, wind rustling the leaves and sun shining brightly.

 

No, Seongwoo told himself.

 

That wasn’t their story. Perhaps in some other life, a Daniel and Seongwoo held hands and embraced happily under the sun. Unfortunately, that life did not belong to Seongwoo. In his life, he was the treacherous pirate Captain and Daniel the exiled, imprisoned King. Their story would surely have no such end.

 

“S-Seongwoo, please say something,” Daniel muttered weakly. His words brought Ong back to Earth, and the Captain wrung a hand down his face to ground himself. Looking at the prisoner before him, the man looked as if to be pleading. His plush lips pouted ever so slightly, and his hands clasped in his lap much like a child’s would be.

 

“You truly mean that? That- that apology?”

 

“Yes, Captain. Every word. It wounds me to think about the entire thing, I just… I wish it hadn’t come to this. I wish you hadn’t felt the need to put yourself at risk the way you did- to- to deceive.”

 

“Well, it’s not as if the Kang folk are eager to hand over their territory, are they? The culture seems to be more emphatic on taking than giving.”

 

“Did it ever occur to you to- to just ask?” Daniel inquired all of a sudden.

 

Ong reeled back, blinking confusedly, “I’m- I’m sorry? Excuse me?”

 

“I just mean- I- You could have told me.”

 

“I…” Seongwoo frowned. In truth, he had thought about telling Daniel. The thought had crossed his mind many times; however, he opted not to take the risk. He knew someone kept watch on him, and the thought of endangering those close to him was unbearable. “Do you really think that would have gone well, Daniel? As if you would hand me an island.”

 

“I would have done  _ anything  _ for you, Captain. I’d have moved mountains if you’d asked me to,” Daniel looked Seongwoo right in the eye, his expression resolute and unwavering. He meant those words. “I mean that, I really do. Hell, maybe I- I still would. If I had the power to. That is why I spouted countless threats and hatred toward you. That is why I went to Father Siwon. It was all to forget you. That is my agenda.”

 

Seongwoo wished he could sob. He, too, had been trying to forget Daniel. Their affair, those shared moments, they remained heavily imprinted upon his heart. His efforts had proved fruitless. No matter the measures he took, the amount of work he buried himself under or the grog he drank, those memories remained, unwavering. To hear that the other had been doing the same wounded him profoundly. A small, dark part of him keened at the other’s desperation. Though he did not dare reflect too heavily on it, Ong admitted to himself: Daniel’s apology and confession were exactly what he wanted to hear; not only what he wanted but what he needed to hear. They served as some twisted assurance that what had transpired between the two of them stemmed from truth. Beyond their layers of diplomacy and deception, of projected hatred and struggle, something authentic had taken root.

 

It sounded glorious - too glorious.

 

Ong refused to believe it. Life did not readily hand him such luxuries as reciprocal love with no tethers. And, surely, Daniel had not let go of his resentment so readily.

 

“I find this all very hard to believe,” Seongwoo said honestly.

 

Daniel’s expression crumbled, “I- I don’t know what more there is to say. I have told you everything. Truly.”

 

“If- if you mean what you say…” Ong wracked his brain for some way to break this spell, to prove to himself that Daniel was lying - for surely he had to be lying, right? “Prove it.”

 

“Prove it?” Daniel parroted confusedly.

 

“Yes, prove it.”

 

“But how?”

 

“In order to prove that you truly have feelings for me, that you truly value me, I need something from you.”

 

“But- but I don’t have anything to give you-”

 

“It is not material, it is… Something else. A matter of trust. Honesty.”

 

Daniel sulked, “Honesty?”

 

“Daniel, there is something about you I… I need to know. If there is to be any sort of- well, anything aside from formal, necessary association between you and I, I need to be assured of your character. Who you are.”

 

“What do you need to know?” The prisoner fidgeted nervously.

 

“I cannot claim to be a good man by any means, and I understand that… An outsider may not have all of the details of a situation.”

 

“Please, be direct. What are you asking of me?”

 

Seongwoo sighed and braced himself as he delivered the question, “I need to know your involvement in the death of Queen Somi.”

 

“My- My what?”

 

“You heard me. If I am to ever trust you, I need to hear your own personal account. Not rumors or deflections. Your behavior whenever it is mentioned is indicative of some sort of guilt. Please know I am not here to judge you for your actions, I just… I just need to know.”

 

I need to know you did not kill an innocent girl, Seongwoo thought.

 

“H-how do I know if you will even believe me? You seem to have reached your conclusion,” Daniel protested. Unlike before, his ferocity dulled. He no longer looked stern. Instead, he appeared nervous and full of dread. Of course he was, Seongwoo thought, for he has something vile to confess no doubt. Clearly Daniel felt guilt - that much was obvious from the first time Ong had ever mentioned Queen Somi. Still, the source of that guilt was not for Seongwoo to infer. Daniel needed to speak it himself.

 

It was the only way.

 

“I fancy myself decent at telling lies from truth,” Seongwoo replied coolly. Though he put on calm airs, nerves brewed beneath his chest. In truth, he’d been curious about the fate of Queen Somi for some time. Daniel seemed to be a missing link of sorts. The imprisoned King knew something. For a brief instant, Ong questioned: did he want to know, too? He dashed the thought from his head. What he did and did not want to know had no impact on Queen Somi’s important place in Daniel’s life. If he genuinely felt the way he said, surely he would understand that passing it onto Ong is a crucial way to regain trust. 

 

Daniel pressed his plush, chapped lips into a thin line, “Very well then. I will tell you… The truth. If you still distrust me then I truly do not know what can be done to salvage… This.”

 

“I suggest you try to regain my trust - not for some sort of physical relationship, but for the sake of your own security.”

 

“I felt quite secure with Father Siwon, actually.”

 

Ong narrowed his eyes at Daniel. The prisoner was testing him (and stalling). Seongwoo looked at the other expectantly, in wait of his explanation.

 

Daniel’s eyes cast toward the ground, and his shoulders slunk, “Very well then… If I may, I would like to give context for the event of Somi’s death.”

 

“Context?” Ong chuckled wryly and rolled his eyes. 

 

“Please,” Daniel insisted, his eyes authentically pleading. 

 

Seongwoo backed down, lips turning into a frown as he nodded for the other to continue,

“Alright, then. No interruptions.” He said.

 

“Th-thank you. I suppose the death of Queen Somi came as a shock to many, but… To those closest to her… To me at least, it felt… Forewarned. Like an inevitability.”

 

Seongwoo quirked a brow and parted his lips to ask a question; however, he backed down upon remembering his promise to remain quiet just seconds prior. Instead, he watched intently.

 

Daniel continued, his eyes nailed to the ground and his fingers fidgeting, “You see, not many knew this, but my cousin - she was sick.”

 

Sickness? Seongwoo thought. It sounded fake. Fake and convenient. Still, he held his tongue.

 

“It was not an affliction of the body so much as it was of the mind. You see she had awful nerves. I know it seems most surprising for a girl who’d been so- so vivacious. So fearless- though I suppose you never knew that. Her image was that of a perfect, charming young queen. Yes, she was a bit girlish and perhaps idealistic, but she was adored. Her charisma shone in court, and for her age she was immensely sharp and informed. She was a master of diplomacy. Why- No noble could ever be angry with decisions she made. Even if her decisions cut into their wealth, she always executed her orders in such a way that it was so… Unquestionable. She was accepted. People felt- well, they  _ knew  _ \- she had the Kingdom’s best interests at heart.”

 

Ong had heard a few stories about Queen Somi, and they aligned with Daniel’s testament (though perhaps they didn’t lavish quite as many compliments). From what Seongwoo knew, she had been well liked and fair, adept and competent. She had displayed strength yet shone as a beacon of youth. How drastically the nobles’ reception of her differed from that of Daniel. Ong wondered if Daniel’s reception was in part due to the sheer adoration people had for their Queen. It was not unseeable that those who had favored Somi heavily saw Daniel as a miserable replacement simply because he was not her.

 

Daniel kept speaking, “In spite of her assured facade, beneath crept severe nerves. She’d always been a bit… Busy as a child. Her mind never quite seemed to quiet- she used to say her thoughts were too chatty for her to sleep. At the time I dismissed it as rambunctiousness. Childishness, but… It never quite went away, and it seemed ascending to the throne as the last of the Jeon line exacerbated them. Those ‘thoughts’ as she’d called them evolved into worries and paranoia. She did not show the brunt of it all, not even to me, but by the end of her days…

 

“She had reached wit’s end.”

 

Seongwoo so very wished he could ask a question. So many inquiries needled at his head. Was madness truly to blame? Or did it provide a convenient cover up? What happened in the event of her death that so greatly rattled Daniel? That swore him to silence and triggered such raw emotion every time it came up?

 

The prisoner clenched his hands in his lap and continued, “I… I knew of some episodes. Not many. I- I once found her balled up behind a statue. Shaking and- and breathing so fast she nearly passed out. After prying, one of her maids informed me that she often woke up in a severe panic. She did so with frequency, so I heard- I- can you imagine?” He swallowed hard, “Opening your eyes to the light of day and- and feeling that arresting, paralyzing sensation? That core belief- not belief, knowledge - that- that something is profoundly wrong? And- and doing so every morning?”

 

Ong had had a few little episodes of his own. The thought of waking up to one every morning. Every. Single. Morning. He couldn’t fathom it. Daniel looked to be telling the truth. The man had always been a rather shoddy liar, and Seongwoo trusted Daniel wouldn’t make such a thing up. No doubt many people in high positions wore the wear of their roles inside their bodies. Of course a young woman such as Somi would not have been immune to the tensity of her role.

 

“As time passed, my cousin grew sicker. She… Had to take leave from court earlier, had to make excuses as to why she wasn’t always present at functions. To many it seemed invisible. The nation had such good faith in her that they thought nothing of it. She was dutiful, and missing out on a party here and there did not compromise that. I… I suppose I’m dallying, though, aren’t I? I ought to just tell you the damn thing.

 

“Tell you how Jeon Somi died.” Daniel said.

 

Seongwoo answered with a silent nod.

 

The prisoner took a shaky breath, then another. Dread oozed from his very being, into the air surrounding him. The sight of it set Seongwoo on edge. He could not remember ever seeing Daniel so tense, so weary. 

 

“Perhaps…” Daniel’s voice sounded smaller than before; he blinked rapidly to keep wetness welling up in his eyes at bay, “Perhaps I did kill her.”

 

“Perhaps?” Seongwoo blurted out in spite of himself. He snapped his lips shut immediately.

 

“I-” The prisoner’s eyes briefly flitted to Seongwoo’s, an expression of loss painted over them in thick, wet tears, “I don’t know. I-”

 

“How do you not know if you killed your own cousin? Your queen?”

 

“It’s just- It’s just that I-” 

 

“Was it an accident?” Seongwoo asked.

 

“I- No it was- it was deliberate, but-”

 

“So you deliberately killed Somi?” Ong gasped. His heart stopped for a moment. Even with all that had transpired between the two, he never thought Daniel to be a killer. The man could not even bring himself to kill game fowl. Yet he purposely killed his cousin?

 

“No- I- Please, let me- let me-” The shakiness in Daniel’s voice made it difficult for the prisoner to get things out. Ong could tell the other strained to remain as poised as possible. He nearly felt guilty for pushing the other, but it had to be done. It was the only way he could trust Daniel. Seongwoo thought that, perhaps some day in the future he could apologize for this. 

 

“Tell me what happened, Daniel,” Seongwoo demanded firmly. 

 

“I-”

 

“Just tell me. Tell me the- the events. How did the- the day transpire?”

 

“I- I don’t-”

 

“Did you take part in Jeon Somi’s death?” Ong’s tone started to strain along with his patience. What had happened that made it so challenging for Daniel?

 

“I’m- I don’t know how to put it, I-”

 

“It is a yes or no question. Do you have guilt about the death of Jeon Somi?” Seongwoo’s voice raised unintentionally.

 

Daniel scarcely suppressed sobs as he matched Ong’s ferocity in his own way,“Yes!”

 

“Is it because you killed her?”

 

“No!”

 

“Then why?!”

 

Daniel screamed, “Because I didn’t save her!” 

 

The words hung in the air heavily.

 

A ringing lingered in the space between them, and not until it dulled did Seongwoo look at what he had done. In their back and forth, he hadn’t even noticed the way Daniel’s body balled up and recoiled. The prisoner hugged his knees close, his knuckles turning white with the grip, and his shoulders shuddered as he tried to contain ugly cries. Seongwoo’s curiosity and needling had driven Daniel into such a state, and though he knew he ought not to feel guilty, he did. 

 

Even with the wealth of raw emotion escaping from the cracks in his composure, Daniel spoke with only a thick quiver in his voice, “Because. I didn’t save her.” Tears streamed down his face, but his voice stayed steadfast. “I didn’t save Somi. So I… I think I killed her.”

 

“What… What does that mean?” Seongwoo asked. He felt inclined to reach out but held himself back.

 

“On her final day, Somi had experienced a particularly horrific episode,” Daniel said. “She had been impossible to find all morning - we told the court she was sick, of course. One must always keep up appearances,” He let out a scratchy, humorless laugh. “I shirked my day’s duties to help in the search. We were worried. I was ready to give up by the afternoon. I didn’t think much of it. Figured the guard was best suited to search the grounds for her majesty anyways.

 

“But… Then I found her. Alive, she was. In a manic state. Blubbering on. I- I tried to get her to come back to the castle, but- but-” Daniel’s shoulders seized up; clearly another sob wanted desperately to claw its way out of his throat, but he stubbornly stamped it down. “She didn’t want to. I… I was younger. Not much- But- God it feels like it. I… I said alright. She insisted she needed- she needed to be alone,” His composure began crumbling as he revealed more and more, thickness outlining his tone. “She said she- the voices they- it was all too much. It was too much for her and she just- she wanted it to stop. I should have known.” Daniel wrung his hands through his hair.

 

Reflexively, Ong stepped toward him and reached a hand out. To do what, Seongwoo did not know. He was in no position to comfort the man in front of him. He shouldn’t even want to.

 

“I- I thought she would have a bit of a walk,” Daniel cried, “I thought she would- I thought she would come back. I- God I just- I let her go. I let her go- I knew she was sick, but I- I let her go and she never returned. Not alive. I-” He started lapsing into a fit of his own as the sobs he’d tried so hard to hold back tore out of his chest. “I hated myself so much after that I- I still harbor guilt. Fuck, I just- And then the Kingdom, and I- I never wanted to be King. It’s as if I paid for my sins- for my negligence-”

 

“D-Daniel,” Seongwoo took another step, kneeling down by the prisoner. He feared Daniel would pass out at the rate with which he went. “Daniel, it’s alright-”

 

“It is not alright!” The prisoner cut him off. “I… I did not kill her but I may as well have. Those who know what truly happened blame me- I know they do.”

 

“What is it that truly happened, then?” 

 

“They found her hours later. They found her floating in a pond. Drowned herself. I- Surely you understand how painful it is to drown- and to do so willfully, it just-” Daniel let out a cry. “I was so foolish, thinking she merely needed alone time, and- and all that happened in the aftermath… Perhaps this truly is my payment for that grave mistake I made.”

 

Gradually, the hysterics calm down. Daniel’s chest heaving sobs die down into sniffles, and he slightly relinquishes the grasp he had around his knees.

 

“That,” He said with a tone of finality, “Is the truth Se- Captain. I promise you, that is the truth.”

 

“I believe you,” Seongwoo answered. He could see a bit of relief on the other’s features, which in turn made him feel relieved. It felt risky, trusting Daniel - even if only once. Yet it also felt so natural.

 

“Good. Then I’ve not reopened this wound for nothing - though I still loathe myself,” The prisoner sulks. “I folded so easily to her will… I never fought back- not just for her but for anyone.” His eyes finally rose to look at Seongwoo and, earnestly, he said, “I never fought for what I knew to be right, always yielding, dismissing… If I had I wouldn’t be here now, would I? My- my loved ones wouldn’t be in such a compromising position, either.” 

 

Seongwoo reached out to wipe the tear falling down Daniel’s face. He swiped his thumb across the other’s cheek and opened his mouth to say something.

 

Whatever words he’d had remained stillborn at the bottom of his throat; for, upon realizing what he had just done, he completely froze.

 

Ong’s mind quickly realized that freezing was highly counterintuitive. However, his body refused to cooperate. His stubbornly affixed itself to Daniel’s too sharp jawline and his thumb idly stroked his sob-swollen cheek. Their eyes had locked and they remained so, completely unmoving. A stillness moved in so thorough that even the flitting of a bug’s wings would feel like a disturbance. 

 

When Daniel’s gaze finally moved, it shifted downward: to Seongwoo’s lips. The pirate Captain waged warfare internally as the other seemed to lean in at a snail’s pace. Voices argued racausly:

 

Move!

Don’t move.

Move!

Give in.

You can’t do this.

You want this. 

This is a disgrace.

You need this.

How can you trust him?

You could never truly distrust him.

After the threats he made?

Everyone said regrettable things.

This is pathetic. You are pathetic.

You can’t live without him.

Move!

Don’t move.

Move!

Don’t move.

Move!

Don’t move.

 

Cracked lips ghosted against Seongwoo’s, and breath tickled his face. The lip contact was so light, so brief, the tactile sensation hardly registered. Yet, in its wake, a roaring fire ignited inside the Captain. His breath caught in his throat as the sparks radiated from his chest. They fizzled and exploded, a combination of nerves, anticipation, and badly repressed want. He feared that true contact would cause him to implode, but as it often did, his inclination to care vanished. 

 

Seongwoo decided: even if disaster was to follow, he refused to deny himself that one moment. That tiny ounce of gratification, the indulgence of something he had no business wanting in the first place. Ong’s eyes flitted closed, and he nuzzled the other’s nose. He leaned in and-

 

_ “Bang! Bang! Bang!” _

 

Ong nearly jumped through the ceiling. He gasped, mouth agape and eyes wide. Daniel looked just as startled, his jaw locked in an expression of pique and shock. Clearly, neither of them had planned for things to go as they had, and even more clearly, nether had planned for those things to be abruptly interrupted.

 

_ “Bang! Bang! Bang!” _ The creaky door wailed loudly from the force of being knocked.

 

A voice followed, “Captain Seongwoo, are you in there? I have a message- it’s urgent!”

 

Seongwoo lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, “Urgent?” He answered. Rolling his eyes, he strode toward the door and heaved it open. The young messenger on the other side looked rather sheepish when met with the Captain’s glare.

 

“Y-yes, sir! You’ve been summoned by the Admiral to the docks immediately!”

 

“Have I now?” Seongwoo narrowed his eyes dubiously.

 

“Yes! I, erm, I have a note-” The messenger boy fumbles to fish a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He hands it over to Seongwoo, and the Captain scans it quickly.

 

“Docks. Now. We have an intruder.

 

Your Admiral”

 

An intruder?

 

Ong’s face scrunched in confusion. Unless there was a stowaway, how the hell could they have an intruder? He wondered. 

 

“I-” Ong did not know how to respond. The neat hand certainly belonged to Admiral Boa. “I’ll be down shortly. You’re dismissed,” He waved the boy away. The messenger nodded affirmatively before shuffling off. When he’d disappeared through the chapel doors, Seongwoo turned to Daniel. “I have to go.”

 

“I- But-” Daniel searched for his words before deciding. With a frown, he asked, “What… What are we, you and I? What does this mean for- for us?”

 

Seongwoo wrung a hand through his hair; how he wished he could answer that question. If only he could jump into Daniel’s arms and let bygones be bygones. Yet, the threats that the other had posed, and the deceptions he himself had taken part in. Even when they had the guise of King and concubine, things hadn’t been simple. How could they possibly revert to a state in which they had never been?

 

The pirate Captain sighed, “Please, Daniel.” He looked the other in the eye earnestly, “If you truly mean what you say, you will understand I need time to accept you. To come to terms with all of this, and- and so should you.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“Good night, Daniel,” Seongwoo said glumly. He left hastily after his parting words, afraid he would get sucked in again. He couldn’t afford to do that. As things stood, Ong found himself more lost than ever. What would have happened if they had actually kissed? Would things have escalated?

 

Would Seongwoo have been able to stop himself?

 

Ong dashed the thoughts from his head. Parsing his feelings had to wait. He had more pressing concerns, namely: how the hell did an intruder get on his island?

 

* * *

 

Familiar silhouettes lined the torchlit dock when Seongwoo arrived. More petite than most, it appeared that the fairer Captains of the Armada had been the ones to collect their so called intruder. Captains Qri and Amber stood aside while a few crew members held a person at swordpoint. Their intruder, no doubt. Beside them stood Admiral Boa, prim as ever. Though Seongwoo was only just approaching her, he could feel an icy aura emanating off of the matriarch from halfway down the dock. He swallowed nervously.

 

“You summoned me, Admiral?” Seongwoo asked as he approached.

 

“Yes. Thank you for your fast arrival, Captain,” Admiral Boa replied. “I thought you would best service us in this situation.”

 

“Of course, Admiral,” Ong nodded. Her words made him nervous. 

 

In the meanwhile, a slender figure wriggled uncomfortably in the bindings that had been put on them. A sack covered their face and rope kept their wrists bound together. Seongwoo noticed something else unfamiliar in the docks. Though it was dark, Ong could just barely discern the silhouette of a small vessel in the distance. It didn’t look familiar to him. Had someone truly been so foolhardy as to sail to Crescene alone? Seongwoo hoped for clarification,“May I ask, um-”

 

“Ah, yes, of course. Our intruder,” The Admiral said. “He’s been blubbering about for awhile now. Wreaks of Kang. I was wondering if you had any contacts remaining on the mainland that we hadn’t been informed of.”

 

Ong shook his head, “Wh- No, not at all. I… Almost everyone I had meaningful contact with has been dealt with. I certainly do not know who this… Fellow is. I- I think he’s a man- is that a man?”

 

A muffled voice whined from the captive’s sack covered face, “Yes, I’m a man-”

 

“Quiet, you!” Captain Amber commanded, elbowing him harshly. The relatively young sounding man let out a soft “oof” before shutting up. Then Amber turned to inquire again, “You’re sure nobody from the Kingdom would’ve followed you?”

 

Seongwoo shook his head, “Wh- Absolutely not. Surely we would have noticed someone tracking us on our trip here. It wasn’t as if I travelled alone, the whole Armada was headed this way, and-” He pointed to Captain Qri, “The Tiara’s crew did reconnaissance. Did you not?”

 

Captain Qri nodded affirmatively, “Course we did - damn good job, too. You don’t think one of the prisoners got word out, do you?”

 

Ong shook his head, “They were under heavy watch from extraction well into the journey. Admittedly I did not have them watched like children by a governess, but they had no access to means of communication, I assure you.”

 

“We believe you,” Admiral Boa responded. “We simply have to explore every avenue of possibility.”

 

“I understand, Admiral,” Seongwoo replied. He turned to the captive man again, “Have you tried questioning him?”

Captain Qri pursed her lips with dissatisfaction, “We tried, but he speaks nonsense. He sounds mad. Possibly confused, but it could be a cover.”

 

“Hm,” Ong eyed the man up and down. He didn’t look familiar at all, nor did he sound familiar. It could be anyone. Yet, how did they think to come to Crescene of all places then? “Let me hear what he has to say. I may be able to figure it out. May I, Admiral?”

  
Admiral Boa nodded with approval, gesturing to the bound man as if to say “he’s all yours”. 

 

Seongwoo took the invitation, gladly, nodding to the crew holding him, “Would you do me a favor and bring him into the light so I can see him?” He asked. “Oh- And please unmask and ungag him.”

 

“Yes, Captain.” “Yes, sir.” The two Armada crew members said in unison. They did as instructed until a rather unremarkable man stood before them in flickering torchlight. Ong shook his head. He did not recognize the man at all. 

 

“What is your name?” Seongwoo asked. Perhaps that would ring a bell.

 

“I am Sir Jason Fei, messenger of Baron Kwak of the Kang court,” The man said nervously. His name still didn’t ring any bells, however “Kwak” did. Only vaguely, though. Ong could not for the life of him put a face to that name. 

 

“And what the hell are you doing here, Sir Jason Fei?” Ong asked.

 

“I’ve come to a deliver a message, sir, on behalf of Lady Hyerim.”

 

“Lady… Whom?” Ong’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

  
“See?” Qri commented, “Nonsense!”

 

“Lady Hyerim! I was told to come here - pointed it out on a map and everythin- Oh, please, don’t stab me!” He said in response to a sword poking into his side a bit extra enthusiastically.

 

Admiral Boa frowned, “Are you to tell me someone pointed out this very location on a map and told you to come?”

 

“Y-Yes sir- ma’am… Admiral?” Jason sputtered nervously.

 

“Did you not mistake it for something else? Did your navigation skills not lead you astray?” The older woman asked dubiously.

 

“I promise you that I did precisely as I was instructed to do. I- I thought it sounded odd myself - didn’t think anyone lived here, but clearly I’m wro- ow!” (Another poke in the ribs elicited a yowl.)

 

“Who is this Lady Hyerim?” Seongwoo asked. “Is she perhaps… Elderly? Confused?”

 

“Wh- No, she’s a young, fine woman. Educated, too. Certainly not confused! P-Please, there must be some sort of mistake!”

 

“And who exactly did this Lady Hyerim wish to contact?”

 

“H-her sister! Lady Jung Eunji!”

 

“You hear that?” Amber chuckled. “He thinks we’re harboring a noble.”

 

“Wait,” Ong takes pause upon hearing the name. “Say that again.”

 

Amber’s smile falters, and she repeats herself confusedly, “He thinks we’re harboring a-”

 

“No, no, not you Captain, I mean-” Ong looks pointedly at Jason, “You. Messenger. To whom was your message addressed to?”

 

“Lady Jung Eunji. That is Lady Hyerim’s sister, sir- Captain,” Jason replied nervously. 

 

“Oh my god,” The word dropped from Seongwoo’s mouth unintentionally. “Wait- wait- wait- wait-” He waved at the two holding Jason frantically, “Wait- I must hear this man out.”

 

“What?” “Huh?” The other Captains present grunted confusedly.

 

“Oh?” The Admiral quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, “The name ring a bell?”

 

Ong nibbled on his lower lip nervously as he watched the crew undo Jason’s bindings. The man clumsily groped at his pockets to find whatever letter or parcel he’d been tasked with delivering.

 

Seongwoo nodded to answer Admiral Boa’s question, “I do have one contact left remaining in Castle Jeon, Admiral.”

 

“Someone you expected to hear from, Captain?”

 

“No, not quite. I wasn’t sure if she would wish to contact me at all. Never directly told her my location either… Seems she pieced it together herself.” Seongwoo couldn’t help but feel an ache of fondness in his chest for the woman. She’d not only shrewdly figured out where he was, but somehow she’d managed to convince a nobleman’s messenger to deliver a letter on her behalf. More than ever, Ong missed her. He could use her unique, blunt brand of kindness - especially in lieu of what he and the former King had (almost) done.

 

“H-here it is, sir- Captain-” Jason muttered, extending a letter to Seongwoo.

 

Ong took it happily, wondering what Eunji could have to say. He half expected a colorful cursing out for the manner in which he left. Hopefully her life hadn’t been too drastically complicated by his deeds. He truly didn’t know what she thought of him. Perhaps she despised him terribly. Seongwoo supposed that the only way to find out was to read. He used the dagger he kept on his hip to open the letter and unfolded it carefully. A little smile played at his lips as he saw the woman’s erratic but readable handwriting.

 

Then it faded.

 

And faded and faded and faded.

 

Until the grin completely inverted into a frown.

 

His heart gradually sunk more and more with each word, until finally hitting rock bottom by the end. A cold sweat clammed up his skin, and he stood there, paralyzed with shock. 

 

“We must give Sir Jason provisions for his travels back,” Ong mumbled. “You two, please… Unhand him. Give him everything he needs, make him swear secrecy.” He started walking in no direction in particular, looking at nothing in particular.

 

The other Armada officers immediately took notice. Qri and Amber exchanged befuddled looks while Admiral Boa followed at his tail.

 

Seongwoo hardly noticed his superior’s pursuit. Flames danced atop the torches lining the docks, and suddenly their warm light transformed into something more sinister. All too well he remembered the way flames had licked and lapped at the walls of his mother’s bed chamber. The soft crackling of fire had grown deafening, letting out menacing pops and banging noises at it ripped the capitol’s castle from the seams. Faint whistling warped into shrill screams, pained innocents begging for mercy and the futile calling out of a child’s name: “Seongwoo? Seongwoo? Seongwoo?! Seongwoo-”

 

“Seongwoo!” Admiral Boa’s voice sharply cut through his recollections.

 

Seongwoo stirred, his heart lurching, “A-Admiral. Apologies, I- I found myself sidetracked.”

 

Qri and Amber quickly rush to his side, having left their crew members to tend to Sir Fei. They usher Ong concernedly over to the beach, encouraging him to take a seat on the soft sand.

 

“What is it?” Qri asked, her voice soft, “What’s got you in this state?”

 

“Was it something that man said?” Amber clenched her fists.

 

Ong shook his head, “No… No it’s not him. It’s…” He sighed, feeling defeated and drained. Dejectedly, he extended the letter toward them, “It’s this.”

  
Admiral Boa took it first, reading it quickly. A deep frown settled on her features before she passed it along. The others soon followed, each wearing their own expression of worry.

 

“What does this mean?” Admiral Boa asked Seongwoo pointedly. 

 

Ong swallowed effortfully, his throat seemed unwilling to properly open, and his fingers had started to tingle. He fought to keep his own panic at bay. Now was not the time.

 

Seongwoo sighed and mustered the will to look his Admiral in the eye, “It means that they’ve got a navy.” He said. “It means they’ve got a navy, and they’re coming for us first.”

 

The Admiral nodded as if she’d figured so and Ong merely confirmed her suspicions. The statement compounded the other Captains’ visible anxiety even more. Luckily, Boa collected her composure rapidly. Though she looked displeased, the ire quickly disappeared from her features. Stern determination took its place.

 

“We must immediately summon the entire council for an emergency meeting,” She said. “Captain Qri, write and send out messages for Yunho and Hyuna. Have a falcon sent to the top of the hill for the Father - it ought to be faster than on foot. Amber, we’ve rum stores in one of our camps to the east, fetch some- good rum, not watered down. We’ll need it. I want all Captains and First Mates on the beach  _ within the hour _ . And Ong?”

 

“Y-yes, Admiral?” Ong responded, hoping he didn’t sound as frantic as he felt.

 

“You stay here.”

  
“Admiral, I- I’m sure I can help-”

 

“You need to stay here and think about how we’re going to break this to everyone.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“You’ve been deceived, I understand this. It is not my wish to put sole blame or responsibility on you. However, I cannot promise every pirate on this island will share my views. Start thinking of a plan, use all that knowledge you gained to cite weaknesses… Anything to assure that we live to fight another day. And that everyone doesn’t want to kill you for getting us involved with them.”

 

“Y-Yes, Admiral,” Ong nodded affirmatively. It was all he could do. He couldn’t blame her for the order. In truth, he felt that the Admiral had extended quite a bit of generosity toward him. He felt very much responsible for the entire mess. In spite of that, he knew that finger pointing would get the Armada nowhere.

 

Things blurred in the following moments. Amber and Qri bounded off toward their delegated tasks, and the Admiral read and reread the letter again and again. When she’d finally tired of burning the information into her skull, she passed it back to Seongwoo.

 

“God bless this Eunji person,” She muttered as she handed the letter off to Ong.

 

Seongwoo nodded in agreement. God bless her indeed. He knew the next hour would go by rapidly, and soon the entire council would be on the beach. He read the letter again, preparing himself for what was to come.

 

* * *

“Dear Seongwoo,

 

I hope this reaches you. If you are not Seongwoo, please do not read this! I cannot say I understand exactly what you did or why you did it, but I trust you. You didn’t have to tell me the truth, but you did. To me, that means something. Though I have so many questions I wish I could ask, unfortunately this correspondence is likely to be one way. 

 

Prince Daehwi - now King Daehwi - is to be wed in approximately six weeks from your reception of this letter - middle of May. He is betrothed to Prince Jinyoung NOT Queen Irene (though I have heard rumors that she is to bear delegate heir). I have heard rumblings among nobility. The King wishes to take our conquest to the seas with haste. Some have even cited Crescene by name, rumoring it to be the first stop.

 

If this reaches you, and you are there, please take caution. I believe you are in danger. The Bae navy combined with Kang military will overwhelm any force. As of right now,  nuptials seem to be the primary concern of the Castle, but when those are over I see no reason they would delay their new era of dominance.

 

I am not sure what you can do with this information, if you are alone, or if you are even reading this. But, if you are, please know I think I can forgive you for your deceptions. If one day we can meet again and you can tell me about it, I would happily listen.

 

Let’s hope to see that day,

Eunji”


	16. Busted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // CHAPTER 16 WARNING(S): N/A

Fire crackled into the night sky. Firelight licked and lapped at the contours of each face surrounding it, painting wicked masks across each person’s features. Rum was ready-flowing, poured without discretion by the busy first mates. As if sensing the tensity in the air, they drained the barrel like their lives depended on it. Low chatter rumbled across the bonfire. Some were curious, some irate - many had been interrupted. A couple had early bedtimes that had been unfortunately pushed back.

 

Seongwoo sat, dread stacked high and heavy on his shoulders. Taeseob had taken his side and whispered a few reassurances. However, they did little for the Vengeance’s captain. He hardly heard what the man had to say. Ong could have sworn he got some “It’s not your fault”s and “focus on looking forward”s - but that about summed up what he took away from the first mate’s attempt at cheering him.

 

“What’s all this?” “Who’s responsible?” “I heard there was an intruder.” “They’re sending him off first thing at sunrise.” “A Kang man, I heard.” “A Kang noble?” “This best be worth me missing out on the company of a couple of nice broads…” “Another rum-!”

 

Conversations interlaced and overlaid with one another. Normally, the gathering of all the captains was a rather celebrated occasion. Stories and jubilance typically accompanied drinking and jubilance. However, in the case of an emergency, they had no such time to indulge in their warm customs. Not twenty minutes after everyone had gathered, Admiral Boa stood and cleared her throat loudly. With just that, all talk dulled into silence.

 

“I thank you all for gathering here on such short notice,” The Admiral starts, inspecting the members of her council. Unlike prior, all were present: Hyuna, Yunho, Amber, Qri, and, of course, Father Siwon. “I understand we all have pressing obligations, and no doubt this settlement has presented us with many challenges.” 

  
A few nods answered her statements, and she let the reactions tide over before continuing.

 

“I believe time is of the essence, so I shall be most forthright. It appears that our little slice of heaven, of home, has been compromised.”

 

Gasps erupted in the wake of Admiral Boa’s announcement. Jaws dropped, and a few even hissed curses.

 

Boa elaborated, “We have received intel that the newly coronated Kang monarch intends to invade shortly following his nuptials to the prince of the Bae Kingdom.”

 

Seongwoo braced himself. He already felt a few eyes shooting toward him, gazes heavy with judgment and concern. More worried whispers flitted between Captains and their first mates. Dread wrapped around Ong’s heart, and he began to feel its weight tugging him down.

 

The Admiral spoke frankly, “We have reason to believe that the merged Kang and Bae forces intend to invade in approximately seven weeks-”

 

Loud, appalled gasps followed that. Jaws that had been merely ajar dropped to the sandy floor of the beach, and eyes blew wide open. One of the first mates dramatically held their hands up to count the days on their fingers. The Captains that didn’t dramatically illustrate the quintessence of shock wore it with hunched shoulders and stunned silence.

 

“ _ -so- _ ” Boa wrested back the attention of her Council, “I wish to open the fire to an  _ orderly _ discussion as to possible plans to fend off said attack.”

 

Though Admiral Boa typically got what she asked - what she commanded - of her people, no such obligation was met with the ensuing conversation. In truth, “conversation” seemed a rather unfitting way to put it, in Ong’s eyes. In reality, the din that followed resembled a Bacchus riot. 

 

“What?!” “Seven weeks?!” “That’s preposterous-” “But how did they-?” “I knew we should’ve never gotten in with them, I knew-” “Alright, let’s- let’s try to think the best of this-” “Surely, God has a greater plan, a reason for this.” “We’ve barely got houses and buildings up. How the hell are we to fight off an invasion?!” “My intelligence says the Baes have a navy unmatched.” “How did a little, quiet place like that acquire such resources for a navy…” “Unbelievable! Simply unbelievable.” “Should’ve never trusted those Kang folk. Bunch of nasty snakes-” “I say we bomb them. Swoop in now and take out their shoreline docks.” “We may have the element of surprise…” “I feel the need to pray on this.”

 

“Enough!” The Admiral shouted over the cacophany. Though it did not stop, it hushed slightly. Just enough for her following words to be heard, “One at a time, please. Stand up, and deliver your piece - does that sound agreeable?”

 

The Council exchanged glances before nodding in accordance. Heaving a sigh, Boa  gestured to the first Captain who’d raised their hand to speak. Captain Qri of the Obsidian Tiara spoke first:

 

“This intelligence is imperfect,” She said softly. “Soft” described the woman well. Though she associated with the likes of pirates, the woman always possessed a manner of delicacy. It surprised Seongwoo that someone so timid and demure managed to command a crew. Yet, she did it, and she did it damn well. The Tiara’s crew expertly executed stealth and scouting operations, slipping in and out of the most dicey of territory completely undetected. Perhaps her unassuming nature played into that, Ong mused. 

 

Captain Qri bit her lip in thought, “From my interpretation the information is slightly obscured, the informant does not have a perfect perspective. Perhaps it’s due to the essence of time involved - they could not gather more information-” She almost rambled out loud. “-yes… What I mean to say is, this invasion may not happen at all. Depending on their position- and this informant’s nature and goodwill- well, there are many reasons for us to receive such a letter. Could it be to stir us? To provoke us?”

 

Seongwoo shook his head, cutting in, “No, I-” He cleared his throat sheepishly, glancing across the members of the council. “I can vouch for this source. They are not in a position of power, they reap no benefit whatsoever from deceiving us.” 

 

“Ah, I see,” Qri nodded, digesting the information - Seongwoo’s word. “Allow me to reorganize my thoughts, then,” The dainty captain said before sitting down. She pursed her lips in thought as she did so.

 

The Admiral added, “I am inclined to believe this invasion is truly intended, as well. I see no particular benefit in provoking us out of obscurity. The rumored forces involved can overwhelm us, element of surprise or not.”

 

“Could we perhaps take to the seas again?” Leeteuk - Captain Siwon’s first mate - asked rhetorically.

 

“That is unacceptable- we are not giving up. We must fight!” Captain Yunho replies.

 

Captain Amber bursts up without so much as a look from the Admiral, “I say we hold their King hostage.” All eyes whip to her. Akin to the bright crimson accents of her ship, Rouge Raven, Captain Amber possessed an unceasing passion. While it often manifested in positive, inspiring ways, it also reared its head in the form of anger. And she looked very, very angry. “That’s what they want, right? Their fucking King- and the rest of that lot? Well they can fucking have the bastards.”

 

A few members of the council let out low grunts and mutters of agreement in response.

 

Captain Hyuna let out a surly chuckle, “I agree. We can send them west in barrels over the sea.”

 

Captain Yunho heaved an exasperated sigh, “Amber, I appreciate your fire, however you must see how illogical your theory is. Why the hell would they hand us their King and island- only to ask for both of them back in a matter of weeks?”

 

“To flush us out,” Amber answered grimly. “They get us out of hiding and in one place, makes it easy for them to finish what they started on land.”

 

Though Seongwoo felt assured that Captain Amber’s theory was completely untrue, he conceded it had merit. Even knowing the truth, he felt his heart sink upon hearing her words. Disconcertion prickled in his chest the more he considered it. It made him start to wonder - start to doubt - just how thoroughly had he been duped? The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Just as Captain Amber said: assuring the rebels gather in one place made for convenient extermination. Without the likes of the Black Armada, who was left to stand up to the Kingdom? To take back what had been lost, wrested away from white-knuckled hands in the toils of war?

 

However, one part of her theory most certainly bore no merit whatsoever.

 

“The new King would never surrender his throne,” Seongwoo said. “They handed those people over to us because they don’t give a shit what happens to them. Why- I’m quite certain they want us to finish the job- to dirty  _ our _ hands instead of theirs.” A brief pause ensued as everyone digested and considered Ong’s explanation. It appeared that they’d accepted it, for they moved on quickly.

 

“I can’t believe you cut a deal with them,” Captain Amber scolded him. There it was - the first accusation. Seongwoo had mentally prepared himself for many. “I’m eager to hear your suggestions, given that it’s your deal that put us in this position in the first place!”

 

“Yeah.” “She’s right, Ong.” “Mhm-” “About time someone told him-” Though the utterances had been spoken lowly, they rang loudly in Seongwoo’s ears. The dismay that had wrapped around his heart persistently dragged him further and further down. It ran its toxic tendrils up his throat, constricting it. He clenched his fists to abate the shaking of his hands.

 

Gracious Yunho stood up, extending a hand, “Now is not the time to point fingers.”

 

Captain Hyuna rose, huffing, “And when  _ is _ the proper time, Captain? When we’ve got scores of men swarming our docks? Or perhaps when one of their bloodthirsty warlords is shoving his sword up your ass.”

 

“Captain,” Changmin, Yunho’s first mate, was the next to get out of his seat, “With all due respect, let’s keep Yunho’s ass out of this, yeah?” Unsurprisingly, his attempt at alleviating the tension did nothing more than spurn the surly Captainess.

 

E’Dawn responded in defense of his wife, “Don’t you dare speak to a superior so flippantly. This is not a joking matter!”

 

“Superior?” Changmin scoffed, “Boy, I’ve seen more than your little head can imagine-”

 

“Okay,” Yunho reaches out toward his first mate, “Let us de-escalate this, Changmin. This is highly unproductive-”

 

Qri tried cutting in, “We all ought to calm down and sort out our thoughts. Now is a time for strategy, not-”

 

“How has strategy serviced us to this point? Weren’t you responsible for scouting? For reconnaissance?!” Captain Amber interrupted the other. “How the hell did you not see this coming?”

 

“Everybody-” Leeteuk - Slate of God’s first mate - tried in a soothing tone, “-I agree with Captain Qri. We must quiet ourselves.”

 

Luna - Amber’s first mate - replies to him, “Quiet?!”

 

All Seongwoo could do was watch numbly as arguments fired back and forth. He knew he needed to say something, anything. However, every time he opened his mouth to speak, he could only muster a weak choking sound. Breath caught in his throat with every attempt he took. Taeseob, though blunt, naturally spoke softly, and the blond’s own words went unheard as well.

 

“Can we kill them all now?” “What would we possibly gain from that?” “Do you think they are open to negotiation?” “We have no bargaining chips.” “-ou’re too obtuse to see the facts. He fucked us. He fucked us-” “Settle down, all of you.” “Captain, they’re embarrassing me-” “Shut up, Changmin-” “We don’t know how deep this betrayal runs, what if there’s a mole among us?!” “-a loose whore with a gun-” “Don’t talk about my wife like that!” “Please, quiet, I am trying to think.” “I feel as if we have strayed far from God’s teachings-” “Fuck your god!” “Hyuna- how dare you!” “Fuck you, too!” “Would they be content if we send the prisoners dead- assure them we’ve held up our end of the bargain?”

 

“Enough!” Admiral Boa, exasperated, hollered. Though her voice did not sound shrill or strained, it carried seemingly without effort. 

 

For a few moments, everyone stopped. With each passing second, the fiery, hot passions that blazed diminish. They’re replaced with sheepishness and mumbled apologies. First mates and captains alike take their seats, embarrassed for their outbursts.

 

Boa allowed everyone time to come down from their fits. It grew quiet with collective contemplation - so quiet that the fire’s crackling sounds loud in the wake of their yelling. After a couple of minutes passed, the Admiral addressed everyone again, cool as ever.

 

“I believe we have all reached the consensus that this is a rather impressive obstacle. However, it is not the only we have faced before, and it will not be the last. If not the Kangs, surely someone else will look to knock at doors sooner or later. Regardless of our opinions and feelings, we must come together now more than ever. That means no blame, no accusations. Not here, not now- not ever. Without one another, we are nothing but a gaggle of disorderly pirate savages.” A few grumbles and grunts of affirmation sounded out in response.

 

Boa turned to Seongwoo, “Captain Ong, given that you are the most acquainted with the Kingdom, I am eager to hear your thoughts. Please,” She nodded, “Give your recommendations. Blame aside, if anyone is to get us out of this situation, I imagine it would be the one who’d entrenched himself in it to start with.”

 

A wave of nervousness washed over the Vengeance’s captain. He nodded wearily, standing up. His stomach toiled, and his throat strained. Still, Seongwoo felt confident: if he knew anything, it was how to be glib. The Captain heaved a sigh, slipping into a facade of calm confidence. He scanned the faces of the council, the way the firelight drew strange, inhuman visages. It proved hard not to see them as shadowy monsters.

 

Monsters or no, Seongwoo could not show an ounce of vulnerability, of uncertainty. In truth, he had no plan whatsoever. In his forty-five minutes or so of reflection, he had come up completely blank. But the Council didn’t need to know that, and Admiral Boa had merely asked what he knew. 

 

Seongwoo started, “I would like to begin with an apology. You all put your faith in me, and the plan I had taken part in has, in part, backfired. I did not practice due vigilance and underestimated the Kang ties with the Baes. In truth I had no idea that the current King and the Baes had been in any type of contact at all. Of course- that  is all digression. Excuses. It does nothing for us.

 

“As for what I know… Well, we can begin with the current King - Lee Daehwi. He is young but not to be underestimated. Lee Daehwi is ruthless- vindictive, even, as I’ve come to learn. We cannot run from him, he will determinedly hunt us down. He is a plotter and  _ patient _ , not unwilling to wait things out, to step back, to calculate…”

 

Ong wracked his brain for more useful information - or at least something with which the Council can be stalled. They all sat on the edge of their haunches atop the sand in wait. Their gazes all trained on him as if he possessed all the answers, some grand plan. The pressure did not go unnoticed. Seongwoo swallowed down the lump of anxiety in his throat and trudged on.

 

“This wedding news has caught me completely unaware. For that, I apologize yet again for my lack of foresight. My focus had been on the King of the time, Kang Daniel,” His heart lurched for an instant at the mention of the man’s name. “As for negotiation… There will be none,” Ong added grimly. “King Daehwi is determined and rather set in his views. I’m led to believe that he informs people of what he thinks they ought to know and nothing more. We are likely not the only ones blindsided by this news.”

 

What would Daniel think? He wondered. After all that fuss over whether or not his majesty, King Daniel, would court Queen Irene - for King Daehwi to usurp him and go about his merry way, betrothing himself to Prince Jinyoung, would certainly be a shock. Perhaps that had been an option all along. Could all of the agony been avoided and the alliance still formed? Ong contemplated the possibilities, the different paths fate could have taken.

 

Alas, fate had led him down one path and one path only. Ong supposed that there would have been no other way to get Crescene. Daniel had insisted he would have moved mountains but would he have? Really? The man had been such a deferent ruler, Ong highly doubted it. No, Seongwoo told himself (if only for reassurance), this was the only way. Now he had to defend what he’d worked so hard for, what he’d uprooted lives for.

 

What he had shattered his own heart in pursuing.

 

How profoundly unfair it felt, to know King Daehwi got his happy ending wrapped up on a bow. All the while, Seongwoo suffered great loss in order to get what he had. Ire joined the trepidation coiling and uncoiling in Ong’s chest. He began to feel angry, envious. For how could such a rotten, thoroughly evil, treacherous young man get everything he wanted while Ong had to sacrifice so, so much?

 

King Daehwi would soon be wed in a rich, beautiful, celebrated ceremony. Perhaps one that would spark conversations for decades to come. The man would take Prince Bae Jinyoung as his husband. Then he would take Crescene. What after, Ong does not know. No matter what he set his heart on, King Daehwi would have it - of that, Seongwoo is certain. He would have it all, and the people of his nation (perhaps even the Baes) would be none the wiser. He could take over the world without objection.

 

Without objection.

 

Without.

 

Objection.

 

An epiphany sparks in Seongwoo’s head.

 

A thought, a plan - a risky, haphazard, perhaps even ill-advised one at that - but a plan that might just work. Something to overturn King Daehwi’s vice-like grasp on the Kang nation, to completely and utterly usurp his powerbase, to remove all goodwill and power he has among Kang nobility.

 

“The wedding…” Ong mumbled thoughtlessly at first. 

 

Admiral Boa’s brows furrow, confused, “What was that?”

 

“Th-The wedding,” Ong said again, this time a bit louder, more confident.

 

“The… Wedding? What about it? Do you- do you know something more of it? Did you glean any details from the letter than I had?” Boa asked, intrigued.

 

Seongwoo nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again, “I- I- No, no I don’t-” The idea was there, a bright ball of light fizzling and flitting around like a busy butterfly. It darted around rapidly, making Ong’s head spin. The idea, the thought floated there, just there; all he needed to do was reach for it, close his hand around it and grasp it true. Putting the thing into words proved tricky, but it didn’t stop Ong from trying, “The- The- the wedding it’s- we- we have to stop the wedding.” He said with an air of finality, as if that provides every answer the Council could possibly need.

 

“Stop… The wedding?” Admiral Boa looked rather puzzled, but not entirely opposed. The cogs in her mind turned visibly behind her dark eyes.

 

Seongwoo, feeling almost manic with inspiration, began talking more and thinking less, spilling words out across the bonfire, “We have to stop the wedding! Yes-! Yes, of course-” He let out a laugh, wringing a hand through his hair. Ong is positive he looks loony, but he doesn’t care. He’s thought of something. Something that can save them. Not just the Council - all of them.

 

“A- a wedding is a highly public affair,” Seongwoo elaborated. “Anyone who is anyone will be there- including the clergy, all of the highest ranking nobility- low ranked nobility- everyone!”

 

“And, I imagine, the military. The royal guard,” Captain Yunho commented skeptically.

 

Seongwoo waved dismissively, “Yes- yes- of course- but-! If we stop the wedding, then everyone- all the nobility, King Daehwi’s entire powerbase, will be there to see it!”

 

“That’s quite the rhetorical,” Admiral Boa replied, a brow quirked. “And how do you propose we halt this wedding in such a way that it will effectively stop their invasion?”

 

“It- it is quite a rhetorical, but- but-” Seongwoo took a deep breath to calm himself. He took another and, more slowly, explained. “But- If we were to expose King Daehwi for being a traitor in front of all the people that matter, surely he would be swiftly dethroned.”

 

“Expose him in front of the clergy? Clever,” Father Siwon responded that time. “But how? Do you think all the highest nobles and holy men of the Kingdom will take our little piece of paper as evidence enough?”

 

“No,” Seongwoo suppressed the grin that played at the edges of his lips. He felt satisfied with himself - perhaps too much so. However, he couldn’t help it. The idea - though near-impossible and completely imprudent - thrilled him. “We show them their King.”

 

“Come again?” The Admiral asked.

 

“What I say may- may sound outrageous, but I encourage you all to- to please hear me. Consider it,” Seongwoo said. “What we need is for King Daehwi to be completely powerless and for the alliance with the Baes to be utterly destroyed. I propose that we bring our prisoner - Kang Daniel, the  _ rightful _ King - to the wedding and have him declare objection to the marriage.

 

“The public nature of the affair assures that all of the most important people in the nation will witness it. They will surely identify Kang Daniel as their King, and the Baes - who I suspect know nothing of Daehwi’s treachery - will see him as well. Queen Irene is a rather puritanical ruler who will no doubt be devastated and withdraw their alliance upon learning the truth. The clergy present will renounce Daehwi’s title, and the nobles will be outraged at him. His power: gone. We can negotiate with Kang Daniel and the others. A simple exchange: their titles for our peace. We restore them to their former glory, they leave Crescene alone.

 

“That… That is my plan,” Seongwoo finished, finally breathing (something he’d apparently forgotten to do in his rapidfire speech). “My proposed plan,” He added.

 

For a few moments, he received only stunned silence in response. A few appeared to be chewing on the information, trying to digest the almost fantastical plot. Others looked at Seongwoo as if they thought he’d gone utterly insane.

 

“That’s genius.” “That’s mad.” Captain Yunho and Changmin uttered at once.

 

Captain Qri posited, “If this King Daehwi has betrayed you, though, who is to say that Kang Daniel will not seek revenge after being granted the throne- assuming this works.”

 

Seongwoo wanted to say: “he won’t because I know him”. Unfortunately, he understands that he cannot say such a thing. He struggled to find words, to vouch for Daniel. Ong had no right to, really. Yet he could not help wanting to defend Daniel’s character. The man had many faults, but Seongwoo felt most certain that Daniel would not slither around in the shadows like a snake. It simply was not his nature to do so. Daniel preferred diplomacy and forthrightness. Though he maintained foreplanned missions and engagements, Ong could not recall the man ordering or formulating any new conquest efforts. Daniel had always been concerned with those currently residing in his nation first and foremost - not those who he wished to add to it.

 

“I suppose we can’t be entirely sure,” Seongwoo said. “However, many-” He almost said “alliances”. Almost. He knew it too bold, too soon to even bring the idea up, so he perished it. In his idealized vision of the future, the Kingdom and Crescene could be allies. Setting Daniel up on the throne would be the perfect start to a new alliance, a new page for both nations to turn. One not stained with blood or scrawled with the names of felled generals.

 

Ong coughed, “What I mean to say is that, we can… Foster a sort of goodwill with these people. Those of you who have worked with our prisoners have likely begun to see it. They integrate well. I believe that we can trust them not to turn on us. In the worst of cases, they do turn on us, but we have more time to prepare. There is no need to neglect fortifying ourselves during the operation.”

 

“That’s quite the lofty belief,” The Admiral responded - not necessarily aggressively, simply in observation.

 

Captain Amber frowned, “I think they’d notice a full on invasion with a fleet of black ships. They’d see us coming long before we even got to shore. We’d be dead on arrival,” She crossed her arms, confounded.

 

Seongwoo shook his head, “No we won’t because we’re not sending the full Armada.”

 

“How could we survive sending any less?” Hyuna queried, pursing her rouge lips.

 

“We send a small, elite force that can move easily, covertly. Why- I’d propose that I head this taskforce myself. I’d accept nothing less, given that I’m in part responsible for this.”

 

“Hm,” Boa grunted approvingly. “And who else would accompany you then?”

 

“W-Well, while my relationship with the lot is strained at best, the rest of the Kang prisoners are a must. Simply bringing in Kang Daniel would leave room for suspicion, for denial or even accusations of an imposter. However, accompanied by a decorated general and the royal advisor, there will be little room for doubt. Plus, they know the terrain - especially the general, Park Jihoon.

 

“Aside from them, I would, of course ask for my trusted lieutenants, and for Taeseob,” Ong turned and gave his supportive ally a small grin. “Then, I suppose, well- whoever may be willing? I think it’s best to keep the operation small. Moving across land with more than a dozen people will be suspect. Captain Qri is our specialist for stealth operations, so perhaps her and a few of her crew could move us there. I would not expect them to stay, of course. Just to escort us to a drop point.”

 

Admiral Boa considered Seongwoo’s plan for a few moments before finally nodding, “It seems you’ve formulated quite a complete plan.” She said; she sounded impressed - or, at least as impressed as the Admiral ever sounded. “A very risky, precarious plan, depending on the goodwill of our current prisoners- but one given much thought nonetheless.”

 

Seongwoo felt as if he had ascended to the clouds and skipped along their fluffy tops presently. He had given his idea approximately two seconds of consideration spouting it out. Hearing Boa’s accolades instills him with a confidence that, perhaps, his spewed thoughts held merit. In spite of the Admiral’s praise, the Vengeance’s Captain caught a few incredulous faces across the fire.

 

Admiral Boa, apparently not interested in hearing objections, announced,“Senior members shall discuss the matter in length. Lest anyone comes forward with a better plan…” She paused for propriety moreso than courtesy. When (predictably) nobody came forward, she carried on. 

 

“As I thought,” Boa nodded. “With time being of the essence, the rest of the Council will adjourn immediately and reconvene first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

The three most senior members of the Black Armada made up the High Council: Admiral Boa, Father Siwon, and Captain Yunho. 

 

Even Father Siwon, ever the image of pious serenity, wore perturbation with the furrow of his thick brows.

 

The Council, so stunned at the sudden turn of events, dawdled for a few minutes following the Admiral’s announcement. After a few icy glares from the Admiral and parting words from Captain Yunho, the dazed lot ambled off, chattering among themselves.

 

Seongwoo’s head spun - partially due to the surreality of the situation, partially due to the rum he’d downed to cope. His feet carried him up; up the sandbar of the beach to the shoreline city. Up the steps leading toward the top of the hill, two at a time. 

 

“Off to finally eat? I missed you earlier,” Taeseob asked, humored. He knew nothing of what had transpired just a couple of hours before.

 

“O-Oh, yes. I- I never got the chance,” Seongwoo replied with a nervous, forced smile. “I suppose we will hear our conclusion in the morn.”

 

“Suppose so. Have a good night, then, Captain,” Taeseob waved to Seongwoo before forking off in a different direction.

 

Ong waited for the blond’s willowy form to disappear in the distance. Then, his pace picked up once more. Only one thought sat at the forefront of his mind:

  
Daniel needed to know.

 

* * *

 

Anxiousness thrummed just beneath Seongwoo’s skin. He did not know what to expect but prayed that the reception of his plan bode well for him. For them. Ong perished the thought hastily. It was far too soon to be giddy or joyous about any such possibility. Never mind that the mere insinuation of cheering Daniel elated him. So long had Seongwoo been nothing but the bearer of bad news. In spite of himself, he thought: maybe this time, I can deliver good news. Perhaps Daniel’s illuminating smile need not be a long distant memory any longer.

 

Seongwoo considered and reconsidered just how he would ultimately deliver the news, the plan. He knew it slightly premature - the high members of the Council had yet to give their final approval. However, Admiral Boa never indulged her Council. She only discussed things she thought important, worth their time. Had she thought the plan completely ludicrous, she’d have shot it down outright. That bode well for Seongwoo.

 

Unfortunately, Ong reached the mission far too soon. He hardly registered the sweat dripping down his neck, the result of running up the hill in the muggy evening. He hadn’t quite come up with a speech. Seongwoo supposed that, once again, improvisation would have to do. The Captain slowed himself as he passed the heavy doors of the chapel.

 

The air felt cooler there, crisper, and Seongwoo took a deep breath, steadying himself before he put himself in front of the rightful Kang monarch again. Ong spent more than a few moments standing in silence, steeling himself. He knew Father Siwon would likely be gone for at least an hour, if not well into the night. That gave him plenty of time to prepare himself - mentally - and to finish the discussion he and Daniel had started.

 

After awhile, Seongwoo nodded to himself.

 

It was time.

 

Ong knew how counterproductive it seemed, to formulate a plan like that. He’d essentially proposed they bend over backward and risk themselves to almost entirely undo what he’d done. He had sacrificed so much, so much more than he’d ever thought he would, and now, it was he who had proposed they, essentially, put it back. It can’t be helped, Ong told himself reassuringly. The alternatives were grim to say the least.

 

Seongwoo crossed the threshold into the courtyard yet again. This time, there were no workers milling about, wrapping up their work. He heard the millings about of a few of Siwon’s faithful crew behind closed doors but nothing more. Seongwoo crossed the half-finished yard and crept into the Father’s study. Unsurprisingly, he’d left it unlocked. The man trusted his crew, and they respected him. Undoubtedly, he had no need to lock things up for a few hours’ absence. Ong felt almost guilty taking advantage of the fact, but not guilty enough to leave the key to Daniel’s holding where it’d been left, on the desk.

 

The Vengeance’s Captain quickly scanned the courtyard before trotting across to Daniel’s corner. His heart knocked forcefully against his chest, and he tried his best to ignore it. Just as before, Seongwoo’s hand reflexively hovered in front of the door to Daniel’s makeshift cell. It remained there as he tried to still himself for the umpteenth time. It almost concerned him, how loud the beating of his heart felt, how it sounded.

 

Then, he realized, the noise was not his heart hammering against the innards of his chest. It came from within the cell. Ong blinked confusedly and leaned in, pressing an ear to the door to listen. The wooden barrier was heavy, but even so Ong heard noises filtering through. They were muffled. At first, Seongwoo thought Daniel had fallen asleep. The man chattered a lot when he slept - a quirk Ong found both endearing and somewhat unsettling.

 

Yet, listening more, Seongwoo could make out sounds much more concrete, more deliberate, than bedtime babbling. His brows furrowed as he strained to hear more. It was a voice.

 

Daniel spoke.

 

To himself? Seongwoo wondered. A few seconds passed, and out came a response. Almost entirely indiscernible. Seongwoo’s jaw dropped, and his blood froze. Daniel was speaking to someone. Seongwoo made it out - another intonation, another voice, he was certain.

 

But how could that be? 

  
Was someone in there with him?

 

Who?

 

It couldn’t be Father Siwon. Was it one of his crew? Another worker? And for what reason would they see fit to converse with Daniel? Though Ong’s brain wanted to shoot off into myriad scenarios, he focused on listening instead, pressing his ear into the door flush.

 

“-ou think it will wor…?” A voice - Daniel’s, Seongwoo presumed by the lower, husky tone, said.

 

“I do!” The person to whom Daniel spoke had a surprisingly sharp tone, higher, too. Not distinctly female nor particularly young, though. At least, not from what Seongwoo heard through the door. 

 

“-seems imprudent. It’s a dangerous…” Daniel replied.

 

The other person heaved a sigh, “Work the man! You’ve almost got him!” They practically shout.

 

Seongwoo froze.

 

Work the man?

 

Got him?

 

Got who?

  
Father Siwon?

 

“I fear… too close may be… Detri…” Daniel, in contrast to his impassioned conversation partner, spoke softly. Irritatingly so.

 

Ire prickled inside Seongwoo’s chest. He started to get a bad feeling about the conversation. More crucially: about Daniel.

 

“Well we shall simply… escape.... Before it gets too far! You’ve done brilliantly…”

 

Escape?   
  


Seongwoo’s brows furrow, and the ill sensation in his chest gradually transitions from needling to stabbing.

 

“-on’t like this!” Daniel’s voice raised. “And- And pretending to- to- it makes me feel… Ill…”

 

“You won’t have to pretend much… From what it… He’s still in love with you.”

 

Agony stabbed Seongwoo in the chest. It came without warning, robbing him of breath, of his wits, of the ability to move. So thoroughly taken aback by it, Ong can only clutch his heart futilely as his ear remained pressed to the wood.

 

“I’m not sure if he ever was-” Daniel replied. “-or if he will be.”

 

“Nonsense.”

 

“Jisung-” So he conversed with Jisung. The nugget of knowledge hardly provided consolation to the pained Captain.  “-I told him about Somi.”

 

“...What did he…?”

 

“He seemed… to think.”

 

“Daniel, it wasn’t your fault-”

 

“I could have saved her.” Those words came through the door, clear.

 

“Perish those thoughts. Focus on working the Captain-”

 

Working the Captain.

 

Those were Jisung’s words.

 

Laid out plain, simple, and unmistakable.

 

An unparalleled shame and dread washed over Seongwoo in a nauseating wave. For an instant, he feared he would fall ill, blow his cover as he retched right in front of Daniel’s holding door. He didn’t, somehow. Perhaps because he had yet to eat. Perhaps because he stubbornly insisted on hearing more. As if Daniel would dispute Jisung’s assertions, reveal what he’d said to be genuine.

 

“I am- have I not done enough!?” Daniel sounded irate.

 

“When we’re off this rock, then I will concede that you have,” Jisung replied bitterly.

 

“Why are you- why are you so single-minded about this? These things could take time-”

 

“Because I am not interested in… You promised you would... With him to get us off…!”

 

“Jisung,” Daniel heaved a sigh. “Calm yourself. Baring our teeth at one another does nothing to help our cause.”

 

“You’re…” Another sigh just barely sounded out through the door. “I am proud of your progress… I know how… For you to act in such a way.”

 

“It’s…”

 

It’s what? Seongwoo wondered. It’s what? 

 

“Not easy,” Is all Daniel said to elaborate.

 

Not easy.

 

As if being in love had been?

 

Seongwoo burst up suddenly. His body had stood without conscious thought, really. It was as if his own body informed him that he was finished. He’d heard enough. More than enough. More than he ever wanted to, but more importantly, all he needed to know. Suddenly, his plan felt foolish. How could a man he’d so greatly spurn hold goodwill toward him?

 

However, even more pressing in his mind: 

 

How could that man, Kang Daniel, ever forgive him? Ever love him again?

 

Foolish, Seongwoo thought to himself.  _ Foolish _ .

 

So many things came over Ong in that moment, that they ultimately numbed him. What was there to think? To say?

 

Feeling utterly betrayed, Seongwoo walked numbly toward Father Siwon’s study. He tossed the keys unceremoniously onto the man’s desk. He wanted to know more. Needed to know. But, surely Daniel would not say a word. And Jisung? Even less likely. The man had not once ever shown Seongwoo favor - even with how close Ong had been to his husband.

 

A spark ignited upon that thought. Unlike before, the thought of his plan, this spark was not one of excited realization, of epiphany. It was born of indignation, and the little flicker of anger upon which it caught, rapidly escalated into a blazing wildfire.

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon stretched languidly on the mat upon which he slept. Even after so long, Sungwoon hadn’t quite reacquainted with the sensation of sleeping on a bed of hay. He supposed it beat a swinging hammock in the crew quarters of the Vengeance. The addition of his husband’s warmth by his side also vastly improved the situation. 

 

Eager to nuzzle up to said husband, Sungwoon shifted slightly. His eyes blinked open, and his brows furrowed. He stretched out, pawing gently at the space next to him.

 

It was empty; Jisung, gone.

 

“Must’ve gone out to piss,” Sungwoon slurred sleepily to himself. No matter, he mused. Soon, his personal pillow would be back, and hopefully he could drift off to sleep expediently.

 

As if on cue, felled foliage crunching underfoot sounded out next to the tent. Sungwoon propped himself up slightly, a soft smile teasing at his lips. His had just barely begun adjusting to the darkness when he made out a figure swinging aside the drape of their tent.

 

“M’sweet,” Sungwoon grinned (though the other couldn’t see it). “Come here.” He said, tender fondness dripping from his tone.

 

The figure that had stepped into the tent by no means returned Sungwoon’s tenderness. Quite the opposite, the mysterious shadow swooped forward. Suddenly, a fist balled up in the collar of Sungwoon’s billowy shirt and yanked him up. Sungwoon’s eyes widened, and he choked at the sudden pressure on his throat.

 

“Wh- Who- Ow-ow-ow-!” Sungwoon stumbled as he felt himself get dragged up, onto his feet. “What the hell-?!”

 

“How long have you all been planning it?!” A voice whispered irately. No, Sungwoon sleepily connected the dots. Not a mere disembodied voice. A familiar one. Seongwoo’s, to be precise. Though one piece of the mystery had been solved, Sungwoon still hadn’t the foggiest as to what Ong referred to.

 

Sungwoon replied, suppressing a yawn, “Wh-”

 

“How long have you all been planning it?” Seongwoo snarled again. With each passing second, Sungwoon could discern the Captain’s features more and more. His brows were knit together, and his jaw locked.

 

“I don’t know what-”

 

“Don’t play stupid! I know that you- your husband and- and him- they all- you lot are up to something! An escape!”

 

“An- A- A what?!” Sungwoon felt lost.

 

“Sungwoon, I swear to god-” A shadowy hand dips into a sheath, and the metallic sound following indicates the pulling out of a dagger. Sungwoon’s suspicion quickly received confirmation when he felt cold metal pressed against his side.

 

Seongwoo huffed, “I don’t want to use this, but don’t think I won’t.”

 

“Wh- What the hell? Have you gone mad?!” Sungwoon gasped.

 

“What’s mad is you all thinking you could get away with deceiving me. With- with playing me for a fool-” Seongwoo leaned closer, growling, “With using my emotions for leverage.”

 

“S-Seongwoo. Please, just- just- I genuinely do not know what you’re speaking of. Please, just- if you are to accuse me of something, give me the privilege of divulging what it is.”

 

“I can’t believe you- you pretended to be my friend-”

 

“S-Seongwoo, I don’t-”

 

“You- I- I thought you were close- you let me confide in you-”

 

“Seongwoo, I’m- how did you-”

 

“You simply smiled and nodded and listened all while I- while I-” The captain’s grip tensed. “I thought you were a friend, Sungwoon.”

 

“I…” Sungwoon’s head dipped. His insides felt sour, unsettled. Just what did Seongwoo know? He wondered. What did he  _ think _ he knew?

 

“You must think me a fool,” Seongwoo let out wryly. “Your little escape plan would have never worked.”

 

“Escape?!” Sungwoon squeaked out. He could not help the shrill sound, utterly confounded by Seongwoo’s assertions. Of some things, he held guilt, yes. Of formulating some escape plan?

 

“Wh- Yes, yes of course you…” The captain’s fist finally slackened, just a little. “You and- and your husband. And Daniel. And… The General?” Whatever fumes had pent up inside the man began venting.

 

“S-Seongwoo, please,” Sungwoon tried to sound as placating as possible. “I beg of you: speak plainly. Tell me what it is precisely you believe that I- that I have done in conspiracy with these people.” 

 

Seongwoo heaved a hefty sigh and let go of Sungwoon. In the dark, Sungwoon could see him cross his arms. He paused, likely in thought. After a brief recess, the Captain spoke again, much more calmly.

 

“Let me ask you this, Sungwoon,” The Captain said. “Do you know where your husband is right now?”

 

Sungwoon blinked. He glanced around dumbly, as if Jisung had been there the entire time. Of course, he hadn’t. It occurred to him that Seongwoo’s question had validity: where  _ was _ his husband?

 

“I- I think he went to relieve himself,” Sungwoon replied. More deeply considering it, Jisung had been gone for some time. Lest something had upset his constitution, he ought to have returned already.

 

“Wrong,” Seongwoo answered bluntly. “Your husband has - somehow - gotten to the mission.”

 

“The mission?” What a ridiculous thing to say, Sungwoon thought. He neglected to mention it, considering the other possessed a dagger and he did not. “Up the hill?”

 

The other nodded, “Yes. I had business with the prisoner held there, and I nearly interrupted an apparent appointment.”

 

“What? With- You mean Kin- Daniel, yes?”

 

“Yes. Imagine my surprise when I heard him conversing with your husband about an escape plan.”

 

“An escape plan?” Sungwoon scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Surely my husband would never be so foolish- I mean…” He trailed off, thinking about it more. His Jisung wasn’t stupid, but he could be stubborn and even mulish, inflexible.

 

“From what I gather, the gist was as follows,” Seongwoo said. “Daniel was to use my feelings to manipulate me into- I- I don’t know. Extending some sort of mercy or escape opportunity to you lot. I suppose they intended he seduce me with emotions as opposed to physical intimacy.” The captain added poignantly.

 

Sungwoon winced at the thought of it. What an immeasurably cruel thing to do. However, when backed up against a wall, he knew his husband to be capable of nasty things. He’d only ever witnessed it once or twice in their years together. Being a noble - eventually a King’s advisor - meant one could not always be kind or gracious. It often entailed difficult decision making, sacrifices, and - on the worst of days - resorting to questionable, even harsh tactics to meet an end.

 

“God,” Seongwoo muttered, sounding taken aback. Apparently, Sungwoon had lost himself in his contemplations for quite some time, judging by the Captain’s tone. “You really didn’t know a thing, did you?”

 

Sungwoon’s guts twisted with dread, and he nodded (even though the other could scarcely see it), “I… I suppose it was unrealistic to expect Jisung to take this lying down.”

 

He supposed a part of him knew all along, could tell that the other would never be content with a simple life. It wasn’t necessarily that Jisung could not tolerate living more roughly. Surely, his man would get over the lack of luxuries eventually. After all, he and Jisung had lived their lives on the fringe all that summer when they’d first met. It was the perceived injustice that would continue to gnaw at Jisung until the end of time. Regardless of the truth, if Jisung had it set in his head that something had been unfair, that it wasn’t right, he would never see it otherwise. He would, no doubt, resent Seongwoo until the end of his days. The man always insisted Sungwoon “deserved a palace”; perhaps some marital duty played into his drastic decisions.

 

The more Sungwoon reflected on it, the more true it seemed. Jisung had been disappearing more often. Sungwoon found himself waking alone in the middle of the night with fair frequency. He’d always written it off as Jisung doing what all humans had to do and fell asleep shortly thereafter. Jisung had never, ever discussed their time on Crescene as something long-term, even. Little things he said made much more sense; times when Jisung had said “when we get back home” as opposed to “if”. He spoke about a return to the continent as if it was an inevitability.

 

“Sungwoon, I’m sorry,” The apology coming from Seongwoo sounded genuine. It did little to soften the blow, though. The realization that, in his husband’s eyes, there was one, single proper way to live. A way in which he would always, always be inferior, be below him, be sneaking around, at his beck and call.

  
Hot, wet tears stung Sungwoon’s eyes.

 

“I ought to apologize,” Sungwoon said, forcing out a laugh to keep his tears at bay. “I really should keep a closer eye on my own husband.” He lowered himself onto the mattress to sit. To take it all in. 

 

Years of fear and doubts seemed to be actualizing in an instant:

 

The fear that Jisung would never see him as an equal - that Jisung  _ did not want _ to see him as an equal. 

 

The fear that his grandfather had been right all along, that he’d been used and would be cast away once his luster dulled, when he stopped being agreeable.

 

The dread at the thought of living as a concubine forever.

 

Or, most paralyzing thought of all:

  
The fear that he and Jisung were not forever, and that he’d abandoned his loving family for naught.

 

Sungwoon clasped his hands in his lap tightly. He did not know what to say, how to respond to this supposed plan or Seongwoo’s own unfortunate part in it. They both had been led astray, so it seemed.

 

“Sungwoon,” Seongwoo replied, even more softly than before. “I- I’m sorry you had to learn of their plan in such a way. I’m sure that, in his head, Jisung believes this course of action to be the best for you two.”

 

“Don’t-” Sungwoon gritted his teeth, staving off a thick sob rising in his throat. When he felt confident he could speak without spilling it, he finished the thought. “Do not worry about me. If I may ask: what business did you have with that prisoner? How did you come to- to learn of this?” He knew it wasn’t his place but hoped that the Captain’s guilt would loosen his lips. He felt genuinely curious, and if he had news for Daniel, the news likely applied to all of the Kang prisoners - his husband included.

 

“I’ve gotten news from the castle,” Seongwoo let out a stopped up breath.

 

“The castle?” Sungwoon’s brows raise. “Castle Jeon?”

 

“Yes,” Seongwoo nodded. “Miss Eunji managed to send a message, actually.”

 

“Eunji? The maid?”

 

“One and the same.”

 

“A message to Crescene?”

 

“Yes, I’m quite surprised, too, but- but that’s not what is most relevant.”

 

“It isn’t?”

 

“No,” The captain’s tone downturns to something harrowing. “No, it’s not. The castle is in a state of madness right now. It appears that- that Prince- no, King Daehwi is to be wed.”

 

Sungwoon’s blood froze, “To Queen Irene?”

 

“To Prince Jinyoung, but the alliance remains strong all the same. What is theirs will be King Daehwi’s and vice versa.”

 

“ _ God _ ,” Sungwoon gasped.

 

“I bet you can guess what their first target is going to be once all is said and done.”

 

“They intend to take Crescene back,” Sungwoon muttered. His heart sunk. “What in the hell are we to do about that?! Or- Well- you lot?”

 

The shadowy silhouette of Seongwoo’s figure tensed slightly. Something made him nervous. In spite of his palpable anxiety, he spoke firmly in response:

 

“I’ve concocted a plan. A rather risky one, but probably our best bet. We are to stop the wedding ourselves. I, along with a trusted few, lead a covert, mobile unit through the continent.”

 

“You wish to go back?”

 

“We have to,” Seongwoo said. “I- I was on my way to inform Daniel of this, when…” He shook his head. “That matters not. The plan is as follows: we escort you lot - all of you. Or, at least, the nobles, to the Kingdom. During the ceremony, Daniel, accompanied by his trusted and recognized confidants, objects to the matrimony.”

 

“In front of everyone,” Sungwoon completed the thought aloud.

 

“Precisely.”

 

“It would be so public, people would have to recognize the treachery. King Daehwi would be sentenced to execution, it’s… Brilliant.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Absolutely absurd, but, yes, brilliant.”

 

“Well, I’d like to believe all will go well. In theory, if we were to place Daniel back on the throne, I would hope we could negotiate something. Keep them away from our island. Assuming the plan is accepted, we would be casting off in a few days. Of course- we only need the recognized nobles…” Seongwoo trailed off. Though dark, Sungwoon could discern the other looking at him pointedly.

 

“I will follow Jisung no matter where he goes,” Sungwoon answered the unspoken question. Even if Jisung vexed him endlessly, he still loved the man. He could not possibly dream of staying behind without resolving things.

 

“You will always have a place on Crescene, Sungwoon,” Seongwoo responded. “Just because he does not want a new start does not mean you shouldn’t have yours.”

 

Sungwoon shook his head, “I think… This may be for the best.”

 

“But-”

 

“Don’t fuss over me. This plan of yours gives you more than enough to worry over. I know that, should things turn bad between he and I, he would never have me trapped.”

 

Seongwoo accepted the answer with a tight-lipped nod; even in the night, his frown appeared deep, contemplative.

 

“I’m sorry,” Seongwoo said again. He’d apologized so much over the course of a single conversation. Sungwoon knew that, under different circumstances, he’d have teased the man relentlessly for it. 

 

“So am I,” Sungwoon responded, for how else could he? He felt as if nobody was free of guilt given their current situation. (Except for, perhaps, Guanlin.)

 

Everyone had done and said regrettable things. In the end, they’d all found themselves in a rather sorry state for it.

 

Sungwoon cleared his throat loudly and sniffled, “Let me know about that plan, then.”

 

“I shall have news in the morning,” The Captain replied hushedly. 

 

“Sleep well, then. It may be the last night of good sleep we have for quite some time.”

 

Seongwoo let out a wry laugh, “Not sure how good it’s going to be, in truth.”

 

“Then sleep poorly,” Sungwoon joked in spite of himself. He elicited a genuine chuckle out of the other which warmed him.

 

“You, too,” Seongwoo prodded back. “I’ll speak to you soon, Sungwoon.”

 

“I look forward to it,” Sungwoon replied. “Now, off with you, before my husband comes back.”

 

Seongwoo obliged, muttering a few more parting words before shuffling off. With the departure of the other, the necessity to remain composed left as well. Sungwoon sniffled. He buried his face in the mattress, praying that sleep took him before his husband’s return. Should he be awake upon the other’s reemergence, he’s not certain what he would do. It was a toss-up between strangling the man and sobbing. Interested in doing neither, Sungwoon squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Luckily, fortune favored him, and soon exhaustion - physical, mental, and emotional - dragged him into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Lady Hyerim’s reappearance in court had been met with glowing reception. Too glowing, in maid Jung Eunji’s opinion. More and more, she found herself pulled into the charade. Though the driving force behind her motivation to dress up was, in fact, the gathering of information, more interested parties began meddling. Hayoung would pull her aside, informing her that she snatched the most perfect jewels to compliment a dress Naeun had snatched. Eunji had chastised the girls for adopting habitual theft as a pastime - but, upon seeing the aforementioned jewels, she conceded. They were perfect. The uncurbed enthusiasm of her fellow maids, combined with Baron Kwak’s insistent asking for Lady Hyerim, meant Eunji found herself donning a lady’s clothes more often than her maid’s uniform as of late. 

 

Hence, Eunji - masquerading as Hyerim - found herself in a pale pink dress adorned with lace on the cuffs, paired with a dainty pearl necklace and matching earrings. Eunji bemoaned the current state of her constricted ribcage. Wearing a dozen layers of lace, chiffon, silk, or whatever the hell else the rich had their clothes made of gave her nausea. Though the morning had barely begun, she already felt as if she was standing beneath the blazing afternoon sun.

 

Baron Kwak had called for Lady Hyerim, inviting her to walk the gardens after breakfast. Ever the dutiful spy, “Hyerim” accepted the invitation jubilantly. Eunji had thanked god almighty when, upon meeting the Baron in the gardens, she saw it to be a group engagement. A few other lords, ladies, and concubines mingled in a throng, and they walked together in pairs, arm in arm. After almost vehemently insisting her timidity, Eunji had managed to guard her waist from the Baron’s snaking arm. 

 

Presently, Baron Kwak babbled about the gardens. Something about his father donating some tree or such. Eunji’s head hurt. She strained to hear enough of the Baron’s talk to form responses while hoping to pick up the tangential conversations around her. All this time and charade had hardly gotten her much more than a message to Seongwoo. She hoped to know who was behind the entire operation - just who Seongwoo had worked with. Though she did not know yet what she could do with the information, she could not sleep at night knowing foul play was involved in King Daniel’s death (or disappearance).

 

“-o have a favorite flower?” Baron Kwak asked.

 

Eunji blinked a few times dazedly before realizing he’d addressed her, “R-right, yes.”

 

“You do have a favorite flower?” The Baron asked with a kind grin.

 

“Yes, yes I do,” Eunji quickly recovered from her lapse in attention. “They are… Roses.” She picked the first one she could think of. As a maid she’d occasionally been tasked with potting flowers, but she didn’t work in the garden for god’s sakes. 

 

“Classic and elegant, quite fitting,” The Baron lavished. The maid suppressed her gag reflex, flashing a faux smile.

 

“Yes, I was raised with an appreciation for tradition, certainly. And roses are so… So fragrant!”

 

“You know, on my estate we have a few rose bushes. They’re dangerous, you know. You oughtn’t pluck one with your hands. They’ll prick your fingers!”

 

Eunji wanted to roll her eyes. Did the man truly just speak to her as if she did not know roses had thorns?

 

“Is that so?” She answered with a giggle. “I’d only seen them in arrangements, to be honest.”

 

“Quite! As a child I thought I would be clever and pick one for my mum.”

 

“Oh, dear.”

 

“I ended up with an arm full of scratches and a lot of regrets.”

 

“And a lesson learned.”

 

“Yes! Though I’d have settled for an explanation as opposed to a demonstration to learn it.”

 

“Well, you haven’t tried to pick a rose since, have you?”

 

“I task my gardeners with it, now for certain.”

 

“You said you have rose bushes, what other things do your gardens boasts, then?” Eunji asked. She thought it a question likely to get the other chatting indiscriminately. Baron Kwak began rattling off flowers, hedges, trees, and all manner of other plant-life things that Eunji neither knew nor cared about. Elated that her assumption had been correct, Eunji allowed her eyes to wander.

 

Nobody present seemed suspect. Duke Choi walked happily alongside his concubine per usual. Eunji quickly learned that, while Duke Choi befriended many women, none seemed to capture his attention the way his concubine did. Another Baron talked to a few lords about trade off to the side. Duke Hwang hadn’t joined them, much to Eunji’s chagrin. The man had been acting suspiciously ever since the coronation. 

 

It amazed Eunji how joyous everyone appeared. How careless the entirety of nobility seemed. Though she suspected Duke Hwang, she appreciated that the man at least seemed to show something in lieu of King Daniel’s death. Eunji had seen many a ruler sit on the throne. Perhaps too many. Yet it never failed to amaze her how quickly people moved on. She got the impression that the nobles were content so long as their coffers stayed overflowing. Who filled them and how was near inconsequential. Her amazement wasn’t necessarily positive.

 

In spite all that had happened just weeks prior, people milled about the gardens happily. Fine ladies dressed in gowns of silk fanned themselves as concubines and attendants held parasols over their heads. Men walked together in close throngs, probably discussing whatever business ventures they had their sights on. Or women.

 

Not far ahead, around a fountain, the crowd suddenly parted. Eunji narrowed her eyes confusedly.

 

“Are those Queen Irene’s ladies?” Eunji leaned over to ask enthusiastically, hoping Baron Kwak not too scorned by interruption.

 

The Baron glanced toward the clearing and, appearing more humored than annoyed, “Ah, so it seems. Do you know them well?”

 

“Oh, no,” Eunji replied, her attention entirely on the bustling ladies. They conversed animatedly, laughing, beaming big, toothy smiles. What beautiful, brilliant young women. Were they in on it? Eunji couldn’t help wondering. Or did they beam so brightly because they were none the wiser?

 

Eunji smiled, “They are rather hard to miss, though, aren’t they? Always travelling in a flock like that. They seem a rather fun lot to be around.”

 

Baron Kwak smiled and nodded, “I had the privilege to make their acquaintance recently. Would you like an introduction? I believe you ought to know them.”

 

“Ought I?”

 

The baron chuckled as if he knew something Eunji didn’t and nodded. She found the gesture irksome but tried to hold down the shudder running up her spine.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t wish to impose on them,” Or for them to begin recognizing my face - Eunji thought. 

 

“How adorably coy. How surprising.”

 

“Well,” Eunji let out a wry laugh, “We all have our quirks don’t we?”

 

“And our surprises.”

 

“Yes,” Eunji’s gaze remains unfaltering on the Queen’s ladies, “People are full of surprises.”

 

“-Baron,” A gentleman called out to Baron Kwak. “I’ve been looking for you.”

 

“Oh- Lord Park, salutations. Is your business urgent?”

 

Eunji flashed the Baron a winning smile, “You needn’t worry about me, Baron. I understand you’ve things to attend to.”

  
The baron’s sunny smile faltered a bit, “Are you certain? I wish you no discourtesy.”

 

“Please, go discuss important matters. Send a message and perhaps we can meet after dinner?”

 

“Always so gracious,” The Baron grinned. “Very well then. If you’ll excuse me.”

 

“I look forward to your company soon,” The faux-lady bode her farewell. She fanned herself, walking idly in the direction of the clearing. When the Baron’s slender silhouette disappeared behind a group of hedges, she scurried forward.

 

Shy? 

 

Her?

 

Jung Eunji did not have the time for such reservations, and Lady Hyerim had too many nobles to meet for such timidity. Eunji kept her gaze trained to the ground as she subtly strode within earshot of Queen Irene’s ladies-in-waiting. She hoped to hear something. Even little details regarding planning could shed some light, given the proper context.

 

Eunji watched the path in front of her, noting the ornate inlay of patterned tile into the grass. She stepped carefully. No matter how much she tried, the batting of her fan never cooled her quite enough. She bemoaned her lack of a parasol carrying servant. Part of her felt tempted to sucker one of her over-enthusiastic helpers into carrying a parasol for her. Served them right for dragging her into her current situation. Though she had to admit the method proved effective, every time she donned her fine garb, anxiety spiked within her. One wrong move meant death. It even could endanger her close confidants and allies.

 

“Oof-!” Eunji gasped upon suddenly bumping into someone.

 

She glanced up, and her eyes go wide. Without realizing, she’d walked right into one of Queen Irene’s ladies in waiting. The girl looked equally as surprised. Though she looked no less dignified than any of Queen Irene’s other ladies, she certainly appeared younger, her face ever so slightly rounder.

 

Eunji collected her wits and rapidly muttered a reply and curtseyed, “M-My apologies, milady. I wasn’t quite watching where I was going. Please, excuse my clumsiness.”

 

“Oh, no, please excuse  _ me _ . It is I who bumped into you,” The young woman replied. Not far behind her another three chatted animatedly. They pointed to this and that, perhaps thinking of prospective arrangements for the weddings. 

 

“Well, then, I’ve no wish to interrupt your afternoon,” Eunji muttered. She scanned the clearing, trying to glean as much from the slight observation as possible.

 

“You look familiar,” The young lady suddenly said, barring Eunji’s path slightly.

 

Eunji’s eyes went wide, and her blood temporarily froze over, “D-Do I?”

 

“Yes, yes you do,” The young woman narrowed her eyes and inspected Eunji. The maid felt a very unladylike drop of sweat trickle down her nape. She fanned herself violently, hoping it roused no suspicion.

 

“Well, I’ve arrived recently,” Eunji provided. “Around festival time, milady. My first time at court, you see. I am quite enamored with the grandness of it all.”

 

“Ah,” The lady nodded, accepting the answer. “I see. I thought you’d been around longer, for some reason.”

 

“Oh no. No, no,” Eunji forced out a giggle. “Me? No. No, I am a newcomer. And- and what of yourself? You seem quite familiar as well. Have you always been one of Queen Irene’s ladies?”

 

The young woman shook her head, “No, I’ve not. I have been in court near a year now, though. It has been quite an experience.”

 

“I have no doubt that you have experienced many colorful days here at Castle Jeon,” Eunji replied. “Oh- How rude of me, I must introduce myself properly.” She courtseyed again. “I am Lady Hyerim. An honor to meet you…”

 

“Lady Hyerim?” The other woman grinned. “I am Lady Yerim.”

 

“Yerim…”

 

“Yes, though I allow acquaintances to call me Yeri, for short. How funny, that! Hyerim and Yerim. Why- I always thought my name so peculiar. Never did I imagine meeting someone with such a similar name to my own here.”

 

“I thought the same,” Eunji wanted to curse internally. How could she possibly pick a fake name so close to someone’s real name? What if it had caused issues? “How impressive, to be so young and a lady in waiting. Forgive my prying, but I must ask: what is it like?”

 

Lady Yerim took the question with grace, “Oh, it’s quite interesting, really. With the wedding coming so soon, we’ve been doing our best to assist her. Though it is Prince Jinyoung’s wedding, he hardly seems concerned with the details. He is so smitten with our King, isn’t it wonderful?”

 

“How very beautiful, to see love blossom in such a trying, transitional time,” Eunji replied. “Life is full of surprises, is it not?”

 

“Yes. Working alongside Queen Irene’s ladies-” Lady Yerim’s gaze drifted ever so slightly toward her fellow ladies-in-waiting. “-I have learned that life is full of surprises.” 

 

Her tone sounded… Far away. Contemplative, even. Eunji analyzed the expression on the girl’s face, the way her jovial facade ever so slightly faltered. 

 

“I am sure the life of a lady-in-waiting is full of surprises, indeed,” Eunji responded. “And I wish to interrupt your duties no longer. Once again, I apologize for my clumsiness. I must excuse myself.”

 

“Oh- Of course. And I apologize for my own thoughtlessness,” Lady Yerim replied with a cute smile. She truly did seem so, so young to be so tightly woven into the fabric of the high nobility. “Good afternoon, then.”

 

“To you as well, milady,” Eunji courtseyed once more before taking her leave.

 

All she could think about is the young Lady Yerim, Kang native, recently introduced to Queen Irene’s inner circle. What did she know? What had so surprised her? Had vexed her in such a way that it showed?

 

Eunji decided: she ought to get to know Lady Yerim a little bit better, should the chance arise.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> // This is a work of fiction and is meant to be read as such. None of the person(s) or brand(s) in this piece belong to me. Chapters will be tagged individually in addition to the overall tags.


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